


heart on my sleeve

by alnima



Series: Four [5]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Grease AU, Inspired by a Movie, M/M, Mechanic Zayn, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, kind of, minor side pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-17 04:06:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4651593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alnima/pseuds/alnima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern-day Grease au where Zayn and Harry fall in love over summer. They think that's the end of it, until Harry unexpectedly moves to the city where Zayn lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heart on my sleeve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [latenightwhispers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/latenightwhispers/gifts).



> Big big thank you to my beta for all of her wonderful help and advice. You soothe my worrisome heart better than anyone, you're the best <3.
> 
>  
> 
> **Disclaimer: I don't know or own anyone. This work is my own and it is not featured on any other site, nor does anyone have my permission to repost it in its entirety. Recs are fine, links are fine, but copying and pasting is not fine. Thank you!!!**

The sun is nothing more than a half circle as it meets the edge of the Earth, or what looks like the edge from where Zayn stands. It’s been a beautiful sight for the last two months, being able to watch the pinks and purples and oranges bleed into the blue of the sky and spread out across the ocean. Tonight is just as beautiful, of course it is, everything about this place is, but that doesn’t stop Zayn from feeling disappointed and upset and everything else wrapped up that’s settled under his ribcage, aching.

It’s his last night here, his last night deep in the heart of the Florida Keys. It’s his last night with the ocean water lapping at his feet, last night of sand between his toes, and the last night he gets to spend walking the coastline without a care in the world.

Most upsettingly, it’s his last night with Harry. But Zayn is trying not to think about that one. That’s the one that’s bothering him the most. See, he could stand to leave the island. Despite how beautiful it is and how relieved he feels while he’s here, there are a lot of drawbacks. It’s hot and there are mosquitoes everywhere, some of the people aren’t nice, and it’s just—it’s not home. It’s a lovely place, but Zayn knows that he doesn’t belong here. But he doesn’t want to leave Harry.

He wants to take Harry with him, wants to see if he can bend the other boy in half and shove him in his carry on bag and bring him home. To keep him for a little while longer.

It was an accident meeting Harry, stumbling into him nearly a week into his vacation when the other boy was looking for his condo. It’s been a blessing in disguise to have the other boy three houses down, because while Harry had been a nuisance at first, never leaving Zayn alone, always needing to borrow something or waving at him on the beach, he turned out to be Zayn’s favorite nuisance.

Two perfect months together and now it’s all about to be ripped out from underneath his feet.

“Come on, don’t look like that,” says a quiet voice to his right. Zayn turns to look at Harry, smiling softly and allowing Harry to reach out and smooth out his furrowed brow. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” Zayn answers honestly, laughing when Harry’s smile widens. “Come on, let’s sit down.”

Harry nods and tugs Zayn away from the water, guiding him towards where the rising tide won’t reach them. The sand is cool beneath them, soft and a reminder that he’s still here. There’s still now. Zayn lies back, pulling Harry with him and sighing. He really wishes he didn’t have to leave.

“Do you think we’ll ever see each other again?” Harry asks, voice quiet and hesitant, like he’s scared to know the answer, or like he already knows it and it’s not what he wants.

Zayn sighs. “I really don’t know, Harry.” They live on opposite sides of the country and Zayn’s used the majority of his savings for a Florida getaway, a vacation for just him. A vacation to get away for a while. Thinking back on it, Zayn’s not sure why he needed to get away, but he’s glad that he did. He’s glad that he got to spend two months alone…two months with Harry. “I would hope we could.”

“We can keep in touch at least, can’t we?”

“Of course we can. You’ve got my number, right? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Only two thousand miles away.” Zayn laughs, because yeah, that’s true. He hadn’t done the math, how far away California is from Illinois, but he guesses that Harry did. Part of him feels better to know that Harry is just as upset about this as he is. “But I know what you mean.”

Zayn sighs once more, feeling an all too familiar tug at his heart. “Maybe I could come see you during the winter months or something, come out for a little while or something. It might be nice to come out to California.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Harry mumbles, lying on his side and looking down at Zayn, fingers tapping against Zayn’s chest. “I could always come and see you. Have a proper winter and all that.”

“You wouldn’t be able to handle it,” Zayn teases, laughing. He can hardly imagine Harry abandoning his warm, pleasant winter and trying to brave it in negative temperatures, in the snow, in a climate where he has to wear more than just skimpy shorts. “We’ll figure something out, though.”

“I know.”

“You gonna see me off tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course, wouldn’t dream of letting you leave without a proper airport goodbye,” Harry says. He looks sad, like he doesn’t want Zayn to leave and it’s too much for him. Zayn closes his eyes and listens to the waves crash against the shore, the noise tangled up in Harry’s breathing, the sounds of his summer. The sounds he’ll miss most.

//\\\//\\\

Two months spent on the beach and one month spent back at home helping his parents and convincing them that he really is fine on his own, and Zayn’s home. Finally. Well, he arrived last night, just shortly after midnight, fumbling around his apartment in the dark. Now, in the daylight, it’s different. It feels different, definitely much smaller than he remembers. Which doesn’t say much, given that he lives in a studio slightly bigger than his bedroom at his parent’s house.

Still, it’s big enough for his bed, a small table in front of a little couch, a desk that also serves as a kitchen table. And that’s about it, aside from the tiny built-in kitchen, the rest of the place is his bathroom and closet. So yeah, it’s small, but it’s charming, he thinks, with the outside of his windows covered with vines and the paint chipping a bit. Plus it’s home, and Zayn’s missed it so much. He’s missed the shitty shower with knobs that he has to violently shake to convince that he has actually turned them into place, and the fridge with the pipes that gurgle periodically, for reasons that he’ll never know.

There’s only one downside, Zayn thinks, yanking open his fridge door to grab some eggs, and it’s that he hasn’t heard from Harry in over a month. Not even a simple hi or how are you. The last message from him sits in his phone, like the cherished memory that Harry has become.

Zayn wasn’t dumb or naïve enough to think that there could ever be more than it was, a summer romance designed to live inside only a space of time in his life. Nothing more, nothing less. But still… Zayn had thought they’d burn out slowly, taking their time to reach the realization that it just wasn’t meant to be. He didn’t think it would end as soon as he had left their haven.

It happens. And it was fun while it lasted.

But now that Zayn’s home, he’s not going to worry about what once was and what could have been.

Zayn sighs as he flips the eggs in the pan, careful not to spill the yolks. Breakfast, shower, then rushing out of here in time to catch the bus into work. If he times everything just right then he’ll catch the one between the crowds, leaving him with a spot to sit in the back. His schedule reminds that he’s home.

//\\\//\\\

Zayn’s got his head under the hood of a car when he hears it, Louis screaming his name from across the yard. A smirk finds its way on his face as he wipes the grease off his fingers on his jeans, turning to see both Liam and Louis walking towards him.

“Well, look at what the cat drug in,” Louis says with a grin, reaching out to pull Zayn into a hug. “Was wondering if we were ever gonna see you again.”

Zayn breathes in the scent of his best friend and sighs, resting his head on Louis’ shoulder for a moment. He hasn’t seen him in three months and god; Zayn has missed him so much. They’ve talked, of course they have, but it’s not the same. They haven’t gone a day without each other in almost ten years, not since Zayn was twelve and a group of kids were teasing him, shoving him around and calling him names. Louis, always so brave and outspoken, had given the leader of the group a black eye and taught Zayn how to fight. He never really used the skills, but they came in handy when he needed them.

“You knew you were, Lou,” Zayn says, pulling away from the hug and bumping fists with Liam, who has already started to look under the hood of the car that Zayn was just working on. Liam’s always been overly invested in the job. Always trying to step in and take over for Zayn and Louis, even when they don’t need him to. Zayn’s missed him as well, missed his warm eyes and soft smile.

Zayn’s always wondered how Liam came to be friends with the pair of them. He comes from a good family, a family with more money than Zayn’s and Louis’ combined, probably. And he’s smart, soft spoken, and has kindness oozing out of every one of his pores. But every time Zayn questions it, he remembers bullied Liam taking boxing lessons and his deep love of cars that had him sneaking into the garage where Louis and Zayn had used to work back home before they all decided to pack their bags and move to the big city.

“My mom said that you were supposed to leave home a week ago,” Louis accuses, taking a seat in one of the cars and flipping through the papers that he found on Zayn’s toolbox.

“I was but…”

“Your mom had other plans?” Liam asks.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“What fucking moron runs over a curb and destroys almost everything inside of their car?” Louis asks, tossing the paper down. “They even need new breaks.”

“That one is waiting on an oil change,” Zayn says, motioning towards the blue Pontiac to the far right. It’s not all bad today.

“Well, they can wait a bit longer,” says Louis. “I want to hear about your trip. You were vague as hell every time we talked. What did you do for three months?”

“Two months. One of them was spent at home,” Liam says. “We can pretty much figure out what he did for that month.”

“Alright, fine. Whatever,” Louis mumbles, rolling his eyes. “What’d you do for two months in the Florida sun? You look darker, actually. You get a tan, Malik?”

“Well, it’s Florida, so… It’s kind of hard not to get some sun while you’re down there,” Zayn says, shrugging. “And I don’t know what to tell you, I mean, we texted a bit. I told you what I was doing as I was doing it. I don’t know what more to say.”

“Yeah, but ‘chilling’ isn’t exactly an explanation, is it?”

“No, guess not. But it could be, actually. Isn’t that what you do on vacation?”

“Did you have the place to yourself?” Liam asks, steering the conversation back on track, doing his best to help Zayn think of things to say. Zayn’s always loved him best. Not really. It changes. But in this moment he does. “Like, I know sometimes you can rent rooms inside of people’s actual houses but not the whole house? And sometimes it’s just apartments or whatever they’re called.”

“Yeah, no. This was like, some rich person’s vacation home or something. I’m not sure,” he tells them, sitting down next to Louis while Liam picks up where Zayn left off on the car. “But it was nice. It was hot as shit, though.” Louis snorts. “No, like. I know it gets hot here, but like. Wow. It was insane. They’re not joking when they say it’s a different sun in the South.”

“So you burnt to a crisp. What else?”

“I mean, everyday was pretty much the same,” Zayn says. Until he met Harry. He weighs the pros and cons of telling his friends about the boy that he fell for on the beach, but—One month of silence is a long time. And Zayn knows that’s not going to change any time soon, so there’s really no harm in saying anything. “I kind of met someone.”

Something rattles inside of the car as Liam curses, turning to look at Zayn in curiosity. Louis’ mouth is agape, his eyebrows raised in question.

“You never, not once, said that to me.”

“Yeah, it was like—I don’t know. He lived a few condos down from me. I left before he did, I think he was supposed to stay another month.”

“That’s not at all what I care about,” Louis says.

“Louis,” Liam mumbles, grabbing a rag and swatting at Louis’ leg. “Don’t be rude.”

“I’m not being rude. I’m being curious. I’m curious as to what happened. That’s all. He went all summer fucking some guy down in Florida and he can’t tell his best friends about it? What’s that about?” Louis asks, shaking his head. He stands up and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and he doesn’t look as disappointed as he’s trying to sound, mostly entertained at Zayn’s revelation, like he’s found a box of buried treasure.

“You don’t know how I spent my summer,” Zayn tells him, grabbing the pack from Louis and pulling one out. He told him things but he didn’t tell him everything, so Louis can give him that smug smile but it doesn’t mean a damn thing.

“I have a very clear idea of how you spent your summer, Zayn.”

“Is that why we didn’t hear from you often?” Liam asks, shaking his head when Zayn holds the pack out for him. Zayn shrugs and then throws it back to Louis, fighting down a smug grin when it hits Louis in the face.

“Of course it was,” Louis says. “Can’t even be mad about it now, can I? Not when I know you were doing something a whole lot more entertaining than sulking.”

“I wasn’t sulking.”

“Isn’t that why you left?” Liam laughs. And no. That’s not why he left. He needed a break, needed to get away from everything for a little while. But he wasn’t sulking. He has no idea where that assumption came from. He had no reason to sulk.

“Left because he was tired of the dudes around here, I guess,” Louis mumbles, blowing out smoke. “What’s he like?”

“He’s—I don’t know,” Zayn mumbles, shrugging. He’s not sure how to talk about Harry, not sure what to tell his friends. “He’s cool.”

“Cool,” Liam repeats. “Sounds like you really spent a lot of time talking to him.”

Louis cackles at that, shoulders pulling up and eyes crinkling shut as he does it. Zayn merely shakes his head, taking a drag of his cigarette as he shrugs. Breathing the smoke out, Zayn says, “You know how it is.”

Zayn frowns at the cigarette in his hand, feeling guilty about reducing his time with Harry to nothing more than an easy, enjoyable summer fuck session. That’s not what it was; they didn’t even have sex until the two months were almost up. Harry was more than—

It doesn’t matter now, Zayn thinks. Harry’s gone and he’s done with Zayn, so what does it matter what his friends think about his summer?

//\\\//\\\

There’s a diner that the three of them like to eat lunch at. It’s on the west side, a few train stops away from the garage. It’s too far to justify going to while they’re at work -actually it’s too far to justify going to period - but that doesn’t stop them. It’s Frosty Palace, one of Zayn’s most favorite places to get food. Not like the menu is anything fancy, but it’s good. It’s good and cheap, which is all Zayn cares about.

“Well, look who finally got back from their trip.”

Zayn looks up to see Niall, the waiter that they’ve gotten to know over the years smiling down at him. Niall’s been working at Frosty’s for three years now, long enough to know all of their orders by heart, and long enough to know every last detail of their lives. But it’s Niall, and Zayn’s come to find out that means even though the blond might not appear to belong to the same crowd as Zayn, he’s a people person. And that means within five minutes people might find themselves spilling their deepest secrets to him. Zayn hasn’t, but he can see how one might.

“You miss me?” Asks Zayn, taking the water that Niall gives him with a smirk.

“Might have, Malik,” he says, finishing passing out the drinks. “Gave the cook your order when you walked in, so I hope none of you are planning on changing it today.”

“No, you’re good, Ni,” Liam says, nodding in thanks as he lifts up his iced tea. “But didn’t they tell you to stop doing that?”

Niall shrugs. “You gonna tell on me or something?”

“Might,” Louis mutters, shrugging when Niall turns to look at him. “I like when Vi yells at you, it’s pretty funny.”

“Right, well Vi’s not in right now so drink your water and shut up.” Niall leans against the side of the booth next to Zayn, gently tapping him in the shoulder with his pad of paper. “Anyway, how was your trip? You have a good time?”

“Great time, yeah.” He smiles at Niall, grateful that he cares enough to ask.

“Yeah, wait til you hear all the dirty details,” Louis says and Zayn laughs, brushing the comment off. Louis can think what he wants. Zayn knows what he did this summer and how things actually went. It’s not going to hurt anyone if Louis thinks he had some kind of sex tryst with a boy from California.

“Well, sounds like it must have been a great time to keep you away for two months,” Niall mutters. “You hear Caroline got a new roommate while you were gone?”

“She did? I didn’t think she wanted anyone moving in with her,” Zayn says.

Caroline is Niall’s best friend, a beautiful girl that owns a clothing boutique in the Gold Coast. Zayn’s only met her a few times, but every time she’s just as nice and just as lovely as the time before. She’s one of the few people outside of his small friend group that Zayn thinks he might connect with. She’s easy to hold a conversation with and actually listens when Zayn talks. Not like other people don’t, but it feels different with Caroline. Zayn doesn’t know how to explain it, not really.

“I don’t know, man. He just moved in the other night. She’s been talking about him for the past couple weeks. I guess he wanted a change of scenery and he’s gonna be helping her at her store for a while,” Niall says, pushing off of the booth. “He’s gonna be at that bonfire tonight, you boys coming?”

Zayn turns to look at Louis, who nods his head and Zayn thinks that settles it. He offers Niall another smile before the blond bounces off, moving to go do his actual job.

//\\\//\\\

Zayn stares at the grease on his fingers as he stands in the shower. Some of it, he thinks, will need more than just soap and water. He wonders if he’s willing to try and get the oil out of his skin before he goes out for the night. He should. Liam’s eyebrows will pinch together when he sees it, and Caroline will ramble for hours about how he shouldn’t treat his skin like that.

Zayn heaves a sigh as he shuts the shower water off, wrapping a towel around his waist before he grabs the soap under his sink, the special kind that Louis gave him – Zayn’s pretty sure it’s just dish soap in another bottle - to get the grease off. It works, so what does he care what it is?

When he’s finished and dressed, wearing a pair of dark jeans and a white shirt, does he finally lie down in his bed for the first time in hours. He pulls the pillow out from under his head and clutches it to his chest, rolling onto his side and breathing out. Zayn could drift off, to the sound of the city outside his window and to the heavy feeling in his bones.

Instead of getting the sleep he rightfully deserves, Zayn’s phone dings from across the room. One beep after another and another and he groans, tossing his pillow to the side as he stands.

_u still comn 2nite ?_

_u better b thre_

_got u a surprise_

It’s Niall and Zayn can’t help but laugh, shaking his head as he moves to sit back down. He scratches at his jaw, wondering if Niall could sense somewhere that Zayn was thinking about not going, thinking about spending the night asleep in his bed until work the next day. It certainly seems like he might, if him badgering Zayn to go with the promise of a surprise is anything to go by.

**_yea, im goin. whats ur surprise_ **

****

_cant tell but ur gonna love it_

**_wht bout a clue_ **

****

_cant !!!!!! but its so great !_

Zayn laughs and shakes his head, because Niall and surprises—it could be anything. Niall could show up with a friend’s dog, or something he found that he thinks Zayn’ll like. Anything. Zayn doesn’t have a clue what it is, but he doesn’t have the energy to play guessing games, especially when he doesn’t want to get excited and then get handed three burritos like a couple months ago.

**_better b good, horan !_ **

****

_it is !!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D_

Zayn sends back a smiley face of his own and then throws his phone down. He crawls into bed and hopes that he can wake up in time to see the surprise that Niall has for him.

//\\\//\\\

The thing about bonfires in Chicago, is that you’re not supposed to have them. Zayn would think it’s a lame rule, if a large chunk of the city hadn’t burned down years ago. So because of the no fire in the city rule, Zayn has to take a train and then a bus to the South Side, just to enjoy a fire.

It’s not the most pleasant of travels, taking nearly an hour on public transit before he finds himself in the confines of the park where they actually are allowed to have bonfires. He’s got Louis with him, the two of them donned in leather jackets as they weave through the crowd of people.

It’s hard to say when or why the park became an occasional hangout, or why cops allow it to get out of hand every time they’re down here, but Zayn likes it. It’s next to the lake, with an area of open swimming – not like he uses it – and a lakefront trail for people to sit down and enjoy one of his most favorite views of the city. You can see everything from the rocks along the water, all of the buildings that make up the cityscape.

If Zayn were alone, if it was just him sitting on those rocks and listening as the waves crash against them, he’d take a picture, like he always does. For all he complains about tourists and their cameras and picture taking as he’s trying to walk down the sidewalk, he can’t help it when he comes here. It’s gorgeous.

“Remember how before you left we were talking about getting a car?” Louis asks, elbow knocking into Zayn’s ribs to get his attention.

“I remember you talking about it,” Zayn tells him, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I’ve already got a car.”

“Yeah, one that you refuse to drive,” Louis mumbles, rolling his eyes. “Hardly anything to brag about.”

It’s not much of a car, an old Mustang from the 60s. It’s one that his dad bought him when he was sixteen. It was old and rusted and broken down. They worked on it together, fixing it up and making it nice again. It’s when Zayn was taught everything he knows about cars, under the hood of his car with his dad. It runs great, but Zayn lives in the city now, so the only time it moves is when the street in front of his apartment is getting cleaned.

“Don’t be jealous of her, Lou.”

“I’m not jealous. If you were listening you’d have heard that I found the perfect car.”

“I heard that part,” Zayn says. “You gonna tell me about it?”

“It’s a 1964 GTO, not in the best condition but boss says I can keep it at the garage and work on it there after hours,” Louis says, pulling out his phone as he talks. There’s a smile on his face, his best friend obviously excited about this. “Here, check it out. And like, keep an open mind alright?”

Zayn nods and takes the phone, glancing at the image of a purple car. He thumbs through the images and tries not to smirk at the pictures. It’s rusted and beat up, like the car his dad bought him, the one they fixed together. But it’s what Louis wants, something he can make great. But it’s purple, and Zayn can’t be sure, but he thinks it sparkles.

“It’s great, right?”

“Yeah, it’s—It’s a nice car. Looks a bit like shit now, though.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Louis says, taking the phone back. “Been wanting to do this forever.”

“I know you have.”

“You gonna help me, then?” Louis asks, grinning as he pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

Zayn nods as he takes one, offering Louis a grin. “Course I will.”

“Good. Now let’s go find Liam and see if we can rope him into staying after hours to work on this thing,” Louis says, glancing around the park like he might be able to spot Liam from where they’re standing. They won’t. But Liam will probably be in the back, where the trees offer them a little darkness away from the crowd. “Might need you to drive me to get it, you know.”

Zayn nods once more, blowing out smoke. It wouldn’t be a Louis Tomlinson project if he didn’t get everyone he cares about involved in everything. Zayn doesn’t mind; he’s been itching to do some actual bodywork on a car outside of the maintenance that they see in the shop. It’ll be a nice change.

//\\\//\\\

They don’t see Niall for hours. Or maybe it’s been hours. Zayn hasn’t really been paying attention. He thinks about him as he, Louis and Liam hang out under the tree. Liam brought beers, most of which are gone by now.

It’s not the quiet evening that Zayn would have had back at his apartment, but it’s nice. Zayn’s missed spending time with his friends, goofing off and having a good time. They talk about Louis’ car, the changes that they plan to make to it. Louis jokes about wanting to race it, wanting to spruce it up enough that it could be a competitor down at Thunder Road.

They used to go to the street races, going out in the middle of the night to some of the deserted streets on the South Side where Liam told them the races happened. It was fun, for a while. But Zayn doesn’t think Louis’ car could handle it, now or at all.

“You’re only saying that because your car doesn’t move,” Louis says, looking up at Zayn from his spot on the ground.

“My car doesn’t move by choice. There’s no point in driving when we live in the city.”

“I drive,” Liam says, patting the hood of his car underneath him to emphasis his point.

“You drove here. You don’t drive all the time.” There’s a difference in that. If Zayn didn’t want to lose his prime parking spot, then he’d have driven here too. But not everyone wants to pay their landlord extra money to park in the building’s lot like Liam does.

“That’s because parking is a pain in the ass,” Louis mumbles, shaking his head. “I oughta report you for not paying for that spot right there.” He waves his hand around towards Liam’s car as he takes a drink of his beer.

“It’s free parking after eight, idiot,” Liam says, kicking at Louis’ shoe. “And at least I have a car.”

“Fuck you,” Louis mutters and Zayn laughs. Louis hates not having a car. And it’s one of their favorite things to tease him about. “You’ll see soon enough. She’s a beauty.”

“She looks like a grape,” Zayn says, smirking at Louis. Louis glares at him and then turns away, eyeing the crowd behind them. Zayn flashes Liam a smile, sticking out a bit of his tongue as he does it. Liam just shakes his head, wrapping his lips around his beer.

“Oh here comes Niall,” Louis tells them, brushing dirt off his jeans as he stands.

“Yeah, he’s got Grimmy with him,” Liam says and there’s a scowl on Louis’ face that he’s trying to hide. But Zayn can see it, it’s not as blasé as Louis would like.

“I don’t give a shit about that,” Louis says, almost too forcibly. Zayn bites his lip against a laugh, Liam doesn’t. “Oh, fuck off.”

Niall’s moving towards them with a grin on his face, looking almost giddy as he bounces towards Zayn. Zayn arcs an eyebrow, watching Niall in amusement.

“Where’s that surprise?” Zayn asks, pushing off the tree that he’s been leaning on to step closer to Niall.

“Oh I’ve got it,” Niall says, hands behind his back as he smiles. It’s almost jarring the way he’s looking at Zayn, but Zayn tries not to think about that. “Brought you a gift too, Tomlinson.”

Zayn looks to Louis who is pretending to examine his fingers and then to Nick Grimshaw, who is standing a bit away from them, with Caroline and Lou, the three of them grinning at Zayn in the same creepy way that Niall was moments ago. Zayn can’t help but feel like this is more than just some surprise. He’s almost scared.

“What’s this surprise?” Zayn asks, head tilted as his gaze shifts back to Niall. “I’m not really interested in Grimshaw, if you brought him for both of us.”

“No, that’s Louis' present,” mumbles Niall, waving his group over towards them. “But for you… I got you something better. Well, Caroline did, I guess you could say.”

Before Zayn can ask what Niall’s talking about Nick tugs someone forward. Zayn almost can’t believe it at first, his mouth dropping open at the sight of curls and lanky legs being shoved at him. It’s been a month since he’s seen that face, but there it is. Harry stands in front of him, glaring at Nick and Caroline before he turns around.

“Harry,” Zayn breathes out, at the same time Harry shouts his name. “What are you—What are you doing here?”

“I moved,” he says, taking a step closer. “I was tired of California and Caroline offered to let me stay with her. What are you doing here?”

“I live here. Remember?”

“I thought you lived—you said Illinois.”

“Well, yeah. But like. This is Illinois,” Zayn says. He could have sworn he told Harry that he lives in the city during their time together. Maybe not. Or maybe Harry doesn’t remember. “Why didn’t you say anything? Oh my god, Harry.”

“I know. I didn’t think I’d see you again.” Harry’s smiling at him like his face could split open from it.

“I didn’t think—you never texted.”

Harry blushes at that, biting down on his bottom lip. Zayn’s glad he’s here, so happy about it. But that doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t hear from him. Zayn left and to Harry it was almost like he was never there to begin with.

“I’m not mad,” Zayn adds quickly. “I just thought—I don’t know. You never—“ He breathes out, shaking his head with a laugh as Harry’s fingers wrap around his wrist. “I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

A throat clears from behind Zayn and he almost forgets that there was anyone else here. No, he definitely forgot, no almost about it.

Zayn turns to see Louis behind him and he falters, struggling to figure out what to say. Louis and Liam’s idea of Harry is far different than the reality of Harry, and Zayn’s not sure what to do. He’s not very good at this and he looks back and forth between them, waiting for someone to help him out.

“Are these your friends?” Harry asks.

“Yeah.” Zayn nods and slowly pulls his wrist out of Harry’s grasp. He sniffs and then shoves his hands in his pockets, taking a step back. “This is Louis and Liam.”

“Hi, I’m Harry.” He smiles and stretches a hand out for Louis to take. Louis looks at it and then at Harry.

“And you two know each other?”

“We met this summer,” Harry tells him, the smile back on his face. Zayn’s stomach flips at the look in Harry’s eyes, it’s almost like they’re back on the beach, just the two of them.

“Harry was telling Caroline about his summer,” Niall says, stepping forward again. “And imagine our surprise when he said he spent his summer with our Zayn.”

Zayn forgot he was there, too focused on Harry and now too focused on how he’s going to deal with this. He looks at him and sees the girls are gone. Zayn doesn’t even know when that happened.

“Funny how that works out,” Nick says and Zayn wishes that Louis’ interest would shift away from Harry and towards Nick. Instead Louis is staring at Harry, a slow smirk spreading across his face. He looks like a lion that just found a baby giraffe.

“Zayn told us a lot about you,” Liam says, stepping forward to shake Harry’s still outstretched hand.

“You did?” Harry asks, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“Didn’t say anything to me,” Niall mumbles and Zayn rolls his eyes. He doesn’t need Niall making it worse.

“Had to talk him into it,” Louis says and Zayn sucks in a breath, “but Zayn’s never been shy about giving out the details.”

“The details?” Harry frowns at that, looking between Zayn and Louis, like he’s confused. Zayn didn’t tell them anything. But then he also didn’t try and tell them otherwise. Maybe that’s just as bad. He’s not sure.

“Yeah,” Liam says, resting his arm on Louis’ shoulder. “If only I knew how much sex you could get on vacation. Might have tried to book one myself.” Liam laughs like he’s told the world’s greatest joke, but it grates at Zayn’s nerves and he wants to tell Liam to shut up, wants to slap some tape over his lips to keep from talking. But he doesn’t.

Zayn rolls his eyes and breathes out. He sees Harry looking at him curiously, waiting for Zayn to say something or do something. But what can he do? Maybe if he looks at Harry he’ll be able to tell that that’s not what happened. That’s not what he was trying for. That’s not even what he told them. Maybe if he looks at him hard enough Harry will see that Zayn’s confused, that he needs help here because it feels like he’s swimming without a life jacket, nothing to keep him afloat.

“Oh,” Harry mumbles. He looks down at the ground and nods. He doesn’t look back up when he turns to go, just shakes his head and stalks off in the direction of the crowd.

Niall glares at Zayn before he chases after him and Nick smiles, offering Zayn a salute before he goes.

Liam and Louis laugh, the sound irritating Zayn. He shakes his head and pushes between them, grabbing another beer out of Liam’s car. He feels bad for what his friends think, feels bad about how they acted, feels bad that Harry got upset by it, but mostly he feels bad about not being brave enough to do anything about it. But what was he supposed to do? He thought it was over, thought he’d never see Harry again, thought there wasn’t any harm in his friends thinking he spent the summer sleeping with some guy from across the country instead of falling love. Or kind of in love. Almost in love. Whatever. Something.

Zayn felt something. And now he just wants to forget about it.

//\\\//\\\

As much as Zayn wants to go back to his apartment, he stays. It’s been hours since he’s seen Harry. Hours since he first wanted to pull his phone out of his pocket and talk to the other boy. But what could he say? ‘ _Sorry my friends are idiots.’_ Or, ‘ _I didn’t tell them anything. It’s all been made up in their imagination.’ ‘I wanted to keep the summer between us. I wanted it to be special.’ ‘It was never about the sex.’_ But none of that feels right. And Harry’s number has probably changed. Maybe. He doesn’t know. And it’s not like Zayn has any right to that information after tonight, he’s sure.

And there’s another part of Zayn that tells himself he’s foolish to try and call Harry. Harry didn’t try and call him, not when things were left on a positive note, not when there were promises of more, promises of a future. Harry didn’t text or call or anything else, just stayed silent while Zayn spent nights wishing to hear from him. Zayn had thought it was over, thought Harry had done to him what his friend’s think he did to Harry.

So yeah, it’d be stupid of him to call. Maybe. At least that’s what he’s going to tell himself. It’s the only way he can settle the hurricane of emotions building up inside of him.

“What’s the matter?” Louis asks, forcing Zayn out of his thoughts. “You thinking about that guy?”

“Nah, man, ” Zayn mumbles, shaking his head. “Just tired.”

“He’s staying at Niall’s place tonight. Him, Nick and the girls,” Liam says. “We could crash it, if you wanted.”

“No, man. I’m good. I’m fine.” He appreciates what they’re trying to do, but they’ve already made it worse. He’s already made it worse. Showing up unannounced...Zayn’s not sure what that would do. Probably more harm than good.

Louis rolls his eyes and stands with a groan, tugging on the sleeve of Zayn’s jacket. “We’re crashing that shit. Not gonna sit around with you being mopey.”

Zayn snorts and bites back the part that tells Louis he’s the reason that Zayn is moping. But he’s not moping. He’s thinking. There is a difference. A big difference.

“You just wanna see Grimshaw.”

“Bite me,” Louis mutters, pulling open the door to Liam’s car. “For that comment you’re sitting in the backseat.”

Zayn laughs as he climbs in, feeling himself loosen up. Maybe it’s not as bad as he thought it was. And maybe he shouldn’t be mad at Louis. After all, Louis only thinks what Zayn didn’t tell him. And if he’s willing to bring Zayn to Harry…well, Zayn thinks that’s reason enough to forgive him.

//\\\//\\\

“Should have brought rocks or something, then we could throw it at his windows,” Louis mutters, bent over and searching the grass outside of Niall’s building. “What the fuck kind of place doesn’t have any rocks?”

“You’re not throwing rocks,” Liam tells him. “Just shout at them.”

“Or text them,” Zayn supplies, leaning against Liam’s car. “Might be easier…and safest.” And quietest, since it’s late at night on a residential street.

“Fuck it,” Louis mutters, standing up. He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Hey. Horan. Horan, come to the window. Niall. We know you’re in there.”

“Louis, shut up,” laughs Zayn, swatting his friend in the arm. “Just text him.”

Louis sighs and moves to pull his phone out of his pocket. Liam slaps Zayn on the chest and points up towards the third floor window, where four faces are pressed against the glass.

“Think they heard you, Lou,” Liam mutters.

Two of the faces disappear and then Niall opens the window, sticking his head out of it to shout down at them. “You’re gonna get the cops called on you if you don’t shut up down there.”

“You wound me, Niall. We came all this way just for you.”

“I’m sure you did,” Niall mutters. Zayn can hear the sarcasm in his voice, enough so that he can picture Niall rolling his eyes. “What the hell do you want?”

“Inside,” Liam says, shrugging. “Let us up.”

Niall sticks his head back in the window. Zayn can’t hear what they’re saying but he doesn’t care. One of the two faces that pulled away from the window belongs to Harry and that’s what Zayn cares about. About how Harry doesn’t even want to look at him.

“Took a vote and the odds aren’t in your favor,” Niall says.

“Sorry boys,” Caroline says, waving at them before she disappears.

“You wouldn’t have any fun anyway,” Lou says, pressed up against Niall. “I’m dyeing Niall’s hair.”

“That’s my favorite kind of fun,” Louis corrects. Lou shakes her head and then disappears as well.

“This was a bad idea,” Zayn mumbles under his breath, breathing out, as Niall’s building door swings open. It’s a tall figure, but Zayn can’t make out which tall figure until they round the bushes. It’s Nick. Of course it’s Nick. Louis perks up next to him.

“You seem to have upset your boy, Zayn,” Nick says, stopping in front of him. His arms are crossed and dressed in the same clothes he was wearing at the bonfire.

Zayn glares at him. He knows that and he doesn’t need a smug Nick Grimshaw reminding him.

“What’d you come down here for, Nick?” Louis asks.

Nick looks at Zayn for a second longer before he looks at Louis, a smile on his face. “Like you need to know, Tomlinson.”

Louis grins at that and Zayn rolls his eyes. They’ve been doing this for months, since before he left. Zayn doesn’t think he’ll ever understand their form of flirting, this mean, teasing, totally-not-flirting flirting that they do.

“You wanna get out of here?” Louis asks, motioning behind him.

“Yeah,” Nick says, wetting his lips. “Alright.”

Louis and Nick leave without another word, turning in the direction of the train. They’re probably going back to Nick’s place, a place further west than where they’re at now. Zayn can’t remember which neighborhood, but he knows it’s one of the ones filled with pretentious people and organic everything stores. He also knows that it’s closer than Louis’ place, which means less travel time, which also means the sooner they can be alone. Whatever. He’s happy for his friend.

Zayn shakes his head with a sigh. That could have been him and Harry. “I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Yeah. Might do the same,” Liam mumbles. “You want a lift?”

“No, I’m good. I’m out of your way, man. I’ll just catch a bus,” he says, shrugging. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He offers Liam a wave and then turns to walk down the street, moving in the opposite direction of Nick and Louis. He shoves his hands into his pockets and doesn’t look back. He hopes that Harry’s watching him or that he cares enough to see if Zayn’s still there.

//\\\//\\\

Zayn can’t sleep. His brain is on some kind of constant loop about what happened tonight. He keeps seeing the look on Harry’s face. The hurt, the disappointment, like he had expected so much more out of seeing Zayn again, so much more than being made out to be a lot less than what he is. And he hears the way his friends laugh and he can’t help but wonder if Harry heard it.

And then he sees Harry’s face pressed against the glass of Niall’s window. He might not have been able to make out the exact details of his face, what he might have looked like when he saw Zayn, but Zayn’s mind doesn’t need details to make him feel awful about it.

Zayn thinks about it for hours, until he can’t take it anymore and he has to pull himself out of bed. He gets a glass of water and then grabs his phone.

There are a lot of things that Zayn should have done tonight, but he’s not going to let this be one of them. So he finds Harry’s name in his address book, opening a message to him and then types out two simple words:

_I’m sorry._

//\\\//\\\

Harry doesn’t text back. Of course he doesn’t. He got it though, Zayn can see the delivered under his text and he knows that Harry’s seen it. Which means that Harry is avoiding him. Well, it doesn’t mean that. But Harry not answering all of Zayn’s calls definitely means that he’s avoiding and ignoring Zayn.

Zayn rubs his hands against the back of his jumpsuit, trying to clear his fingers of grease as he checks his phone once more. He keeps it on silent for work and he had hoped, in vain, that Harry would have replied while he was busy changing the tail lights on an older woman’s car. No such luck.

“You alright?” Liam asks and Zayn nods, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Yeah, just expecting a call. Hasn’t come in yet,” he replies. “You have any idea where Louis is?”

“Not a clue,” Liam mumbles, sighing as he drops a rag. “He mentioned something about wanting to go get his car.”

“He asked me for a ride to get it.” Zayn rubs his face in annoyance.

Liam shrugs. “You know how he is. “He can’t make up his mind. He probably called off this morning.”

A car horn blares behind them, over and over as a heap of purple junk rolls onto the lot.

“Holy shit,” Zayn mutters, shaking his head. “There he is.”

“What the fuck is that?” Liam mumbles, stepping out of the garage and moving towards the car.

It looks worse in person, the bumper just barely hanging on and paint chipping. It’s making a gurgling growling noise as he drives it, and then shutting it off sounds like a gun going off. Zayn hopes Louis didn’t pay more than five dollars for that pile of junk.

“This is—“

“Wow,” Zayn says, shaking his head. “Pictures didn’t do it justice.”

“She’s a pile of shit but it’s alright,” Louis says, climbing out. Zayn nods as he pops the hood, trying not to frown. “Almost everything needs to be replaced, which sucks. But.”

“She runs.”

“That she does,” Liam says quietly. “Battery is new. That’s about it, though.”

“Transmission is almost shot.”

“There’s no wiper fluid in here.”

“Louis, I’m not trying to be mean, but I think something died in here.”

“Shut the fuck up, both of you,” Louis says, shoving at Zayn’s shoulder. “We’ll fix her. I’ve already called for some parts, the things that need to be done right away. It’ll be fine.”

“I know it will,” Zayn tells him, slipping an arm around Louis’ shoulder. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks it once more, sighing when he sees that there’s nothing there for him. He shoves it back in his pocket and rubs at his face. Harry will call. He will. Zayn just needs to stop checking for it. A watched pot never boils, or something like that. His mom always used to tell him that. As soon as he stops paying attention as hard as he is, it’ll happen.

“Tell me what we’ve gotta do,” Zayn says, making Louis smile. Cars are his thing and if there’s anything in the world that can take his mind off Harry ignoring him then it’s a new project.

//\\\//\\\

Zayn’s stomach growls as they walk down the street towards Frosty’s. He’s already texted Niall that they were on their way so their food could be done by the time they get there. Zayn really hopes it’s finished by then. He’s starving.

It’s been a week since Zayn texted Harry. An entire week of silence, of Harry avoiding him. It feels longer than that, like it could have been a century ago. It’s almost worse than the month he went without Harry.

No. That’s a lie.

It’s definitely worse, because Harry is here and he’s avoiding Zayn because of something he did. Or something he didn’t do, which is telling his friends to shut up like he should have.

It’s been gnawing away at him. Zayn’s never been good at letting things go. Instead he keeps them at the forefront of his mind, allowing them to eat away at him until they consume him entirely. It hasn’t gotten that far with Harry not calling him back, but it’s bugging him. It’s bugging him more than he’d like to admit.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Louis asks, wrapping his hand around Zayn’s wrist as he tries to push open the door. The gesture reminds him of Harry and Zayn frowns. “Zayn.”

“I’m fine, sorry,” Zayn says, shaking his head. He really needs to get a grip. He’s acting like an idiot, for crying out loud.

“You still thinking about that guy?”

“Harry? No,” Zayn lies, shaking his head. “Just thinking is all. Not about him, just in general.”

“Right,” Louis mumbles, letting go of Zayn’s wrist to scratch at his jaw. “You could talk to me about it, you know. If you’re thinking about him.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, if you were,” Louis says. “I mean, if this summer was more than what we thought it was and you’re—I don’t know. Just like, you can talk to me, alright?”

Zayn smiles, patting Louis on the shoulder as he pulls open the door to Frosty’s. “I know, man. Now, can we go inside and find a table before Liam gets here? Or do you want to wait for him?”

“No, the sooner we get our food the better. I’m starved.”

Zayn nods in agreement and follows Louis inside. They wave to Vi across the diner, the older woman shaking her head at them as they snag a booth in the back. It’s got the perfect vantage point, allowing them to see most of the interior of the restaurant. And that vantage point includes Harry, which is unexpected and Zayn’s breath catches in his throat when he sees him.

He’s not alone; he’s sitting at a table with Caroline, her boyfriend, and some preppy guy that Zayn wants to punch in the face. Not because he’s sitting with Harry, but because he’s got one of those faces, the ones that make you angry for no particular reason. He can’t explain it any other way, the guy just makes him angry, makes his jaw clench.

“Oh, Liam’s brought Sophia,” Louis mutters, kicking at Zayn’s ankle under the table. “Are we date crashing?”

“I don't know, he said it would just be him,” Zayn mumbles, glancing over his shoulder quickly. The couple are fast approaching, hands clasped together and smiles on their faces when they lock eyes with Zayn.

“Hi boys,” Sophia says, standing at the edge of the booth. Zayn gets up and offers them his side. “Louis, I heard about your car. Liam says you’ve been wanting one for ages.”

Zayn tunes them out after that. He’s heard enough about the car. Instead he checks over his shoulder to peek on Harry once more. He can’t tell if it’s a double date of not. It would make sense, him ignoring Zayn if he’s been seeing someone. But it also doesn’t explain his excitement at seeing Zayn again, or his anger at Zayn at the bonfire.

Nothing’s adding up and Zayn doesn't need any more confusion. And he doesn’t need punchable face dude dating Harry. Not like he could stop it. He can’t. But that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Zayn checks again and sees that Harry isn’t at the table anymore; instead he’s on his way to the bathroom. Perfect. Fucking Christ. Zayn closes his eyes for a second to thank whomever he should be thanking for getting Harry up from the booth so he can talk to him without having to ask if they can talk in front of a bunch of people, he’d never have the courage for that.

“I’ll be right back,” Zayn says to deaf ears, all of his friends ignoring him as he gets up quickly.

It’s a long walk to the restrooms, or so it feels like. He doesn’t have anything to compare it to, except maybe to that walk he always had to take from bus stop to his house on the days where he got in trouble back when he was younger and still living at home. It was terrifying, wondering how infuriated his parents were with him and hoping that his lie would work, even though he knew it wouldn’t. Honestly, he could have come up with a better explanation than, ‘ _the teacher is out to ruin my life.’_ Maybe if he had then he wouldn't have been so afraid to go home.

Harry knocks into Zayn before Zayn can even get there and honestly. What the hell was he thinking a few moments ago? Following Harry to the bathroom? He’s not a creep and there’s not a chance in hell Harry’s going to find any amusement in Zayn’s actions.

“Hey,” Zayn mumbles, running his fingers through his hair. Harry nods and stares down at the ground, his shoes far more interesting than Zayn, or something like that. “I tried calling you.”

“I know,” Harry says, finally looking back up at Zayn. “I saw.”

“Right. Yeah. I wasn’t sure if—“ Zayn breathes out and shakes his head. “Who's that guy you’re with?”

Harry shrugs. “Don’t worry about him.”

“Okay. I get it.”

“I’m here with people, I need to get back,” Harry says, but he’s not moving, so maybe he doesn’t want to leave. Maybe he’s waiting for Zayn to say something.

“I’m not really used to—um. I don’t usually talk to my friends about guys, like not seriously anyway. And that’s on me, obviously,” Zayn says, placing a hand over his heart. “But like, I also shouldn’t have let them think what they did. I should have said something. And I shouldn’t have been such an ass at the bonfire.”

“Yeah, you should have. To both of them. All of them. Whatever,” Harry says, releasing a deep breath. “But you didn't.”

“I didn’t, no. I’m sor—“

“That’s what I like about Xander, though,” Harry says, cutting Zayn off. “He’s honest. And he’s not ashamed of himself or anything else. He says what he means and he corrects people when they’re wrong.”

“He looks like a dick,” Zayn says. Harry stares at him and shakes his head. “It’s true.”

“He’s nice,” Harry says. “He’s into sports and he’s—“ Harry stops and shakes his head once more. “I don’t have to explain this to you. Bye, Zayn.”

Zayn watches him walk away, back to Xander, or whatever the fuck his name was. Zayn’s honest. He’s not ashamed of himself, most of the time. He’s nice. Harry knows all of that. He fucking knows it all and he’s still going to stand there and act like he doesn’t. But maybe it’s not about that, Zayn thinks, as he walks back to the booth where his friends are.

When they were on the beach, when it was just the two of them, Zayn had been different. Not intentionally, just—He was different. He didn’t feel like he had to hide, like he had to wear a mask and pretend to be something other than himself. His entire self. And maybe that’s what Xander does. Maybe this Xander guy doesn’t hide things from people and doesn’t keep certain things hidden from his friends, things about himself that are important to share with people you claim to care about. Maybe that’s what he does. That and play sports.

Zayn can do sports. He doesn’t care for them much, but he can do them…if that’s what’ll make Harry forgive him.

//\\\//\\\

Louis calls for the fourth time in a row so Zayn shuts his phone off. It’s Saturday night and he knows that Louis is calling to try and get him to come out. It’s Saturday, so of course that’s what he wants. But Zayn’s doing other things. He has more important things than whatever it is Louis wants to do.

Well, there’s a lot that Zayn should be doing. He’s supposed to call his mom – was supposed to, since he promised to let her know when he got back home – and he has bills that he needs to pay and so many other things he should be doing besides scouring the internet for athletic hobbies.

There’s a men’s softball league that practices down the street from his house. But as Zayn reads the post about it he realizes that he doesn’t know shit about softball. Or baseball, for that matter. He’s never really been that great at hitting a ball. At least he wasn’t in high school, the last time he ever played the sport. And something flying at him as fast as a car on the highway doesn’t seem very appealing to him anyway.

So Zayn crosses that one off as a no, continuing to scroll down the website as he takes a bite of the Pad Thai he’s balancing on his knees.

“I could play soccer,” Zayn mumbles to himself, sticking the last bits of noodle into his mouth. “It’s just running around and kicking a ball.”

He knows how to do that. Louis has a bit of an obsession with the sport, so Zayn could probably recruit him to play with him. Or well—No. That won’t work. Louis will ask questions. Louis will want to know why they’re suddenly into joining sports when they never gave a damn before – when Zayn never gave a damn. So yeah, soccer’s out of the question. He doesn’t need Louis trying to stop his efforts at woeing Harry. Because he will, not because he doesn't anything like that, it’s more so because Louis will go on a rant about how Harry can shove it up his ass if he doesn’t like Zayn just the way he is. Zayn doesn’t need that. So soccer is definitely out.

Zayn nixes basketball and football and volleyball and dodgeball.

There’s nothing that appeals to him. There’s nothing that feels like Zayn, and what Zayn would want to do. And he needs that. He needs to know that he’s not forgetting himself in trying to prove to Harry that he’s not the dick he was at the bonfire, that he can be nice and into sports like the dickface at Frosty’s.

Zayn sighs as he closes his laptop, shoving it onto his coffee table with more force than necessary.

There has to be something he can do, something to appeal to Harry’s interests. But he doesn't know what that is. Harry liked him just fine on the beach, in Florida when it was just the pair of them. But now—well, Zayn feels like he’s lost at sea without a life preserver, struggling to stay afloat.

Maybe he should just call it a day. Maybe he should just go back to accepting that what he had Harry had wasn’t meant to last beyond the summer.

But Zayn’s never been one for going down without a fight.

//\\\//\\\

An idea strikes Zayn a few days later as he’s taking the bus to work. Running. Jogging along the beach on the lakefront trails. He can totally do that. It’s easy and it doesn’t involve any kind of training or athletic ability, just two – or less – legs. And he’s got that.

“You can do this,” Zayn tells himself, stretching at the trail a few blocks away from his apartment. “You’re already down here, so no turning back.”

He’s not sure why he needs the pep talk, it’s only running, for crying out loud, but it helps. He kicks off into a run, falling in step behind a woman pushing two of her kids along.

He’s not the fastest on the trail, not by a long shot, and it takes him a while to figure out the etiquette that everyone else seems to already have. Like how you shout out to warn someone if you’re going to pass them, how the direction of traffic is the same as it is on the road, and that anyone is welcome – cyclists, joggers, rollerbladers, walkers.

Zayn starts to regret his decision to take up jogging after nearly twenty minutes. Running hurts. His ankles and knees aside, it hurts his lungs. He can feel the sharp pinch under his ribcage as his feet continue to pound against the pavement. His muscle is beginning to knot or maybe it’s the organ underneath it, either way it hurts. It hurts so much.

And of course, just as he thinks he’s about to collapse on the ground in a useless pile of limbs, does he spot Harry. Of-fucking-course. His life is awful like that.

There’s a curve in the trail ahead that wraps around a little park where there are people sat in the grass. Harry is one of them, along with Caroline and Lou and that Xander guy that Zayn still wants to punch in the face. There are several other people that Zayn recognizes from hanging around Caroline’s apartment but he doesn’t care about them. He cares about Harry.

“Fuck,” Zayn wheezes, squeezing his eyes shut for a minute. “Just make it around this corner, Zayn.” He can make it around this corner, just enough to get out of sight of Harry and then collapse behind a tree and just lie there until the sun starts to set and Harry’s long go. He just needs to get around this curve.

With a deep breath, he runs faster. He pushes himself to go as fast as he can. Partly to show off for Harry if he’s watching and partly to get the fuck out of here so he can finally collapse on the ground and make everyone on the trail go around him because this is it. This is how he goes; death by trying to be healthy, or something like that. He only hopes that Harry goes and throws a proper fit like the widows in the movies, screaming and crying about how much he’ll miss him. It’d be a nice parting gift, he thinks.

And with his mind on Harry, Zayn trips. Of course he does. He somehow manages to kick himself in the ankle and then he’s down, stumbling over his feet and falling to the ground in the most undignified of ways.

“Nice one,” Zayn groans, rolling onto his side and rubbing at his sore elbow.

Zayn stands slowly, resting his hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath. His heart is hammering away inside of him, going faster than it’s ever done in his life. His lungs are burning and he wishes that he had water, or that he had tripped in front of a drinking fountain. Everything aches. His ribs are cramping and his ankles feel like they might fall off if he moves again.

“Zayn,” someone shouts behind him and he knows that voice. “Zayn, are you alright?”

No, Zayn thinks. He forces his body upright and starts walking. Harry saw. Harry saw him fall and he’s not going to stand around for Harry to confirm it. His body continues to hurt as he walks but he keeps going, moving as briskly as he can away from the strip of park that he saw Harry. He’s not going to be embarrassed even further.

But fuck.

“Zayn,” Harry says, grabbing onto his shoulder and forcing him to stop. “Are you okay?”

Zayn doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at Harry, and just goes back to walking. He’s a coward but his pride is hurt and his body is hurt and he just needs three, maybe four years to recover from this and then he can tell Harry that he’s fine. He’ll call him up years from now and confirm that his ego and his elbow and his knees and his lungs all managed to heal up nicely.

“Are you seriously ignoring me?” Harry asks, falling into step next to Zayn. “You hit your shoulder when you fell, does it hurt?”

Zayn’s not going to answer that. Of course it hurts.

“Right. So now you’re not talking to me?” Harry says and Zayn can see him nod in his peripheral, staring at Zayn in an angry pout. “Well, the least you could do is apologize for being such an ass to me before...and now too, I guess.”

“I’ve tried,” Zayn shouts without thinking. He’s still hurting – his pride and his body – but he also doesn’t want Harry to think he’s not sorry for how his friends acted and how he didn’t do anything to try and stop it.

But Harry is smiling at him and Zayn’s confused. “I knew that’d make you talk,” he says, grabbing Zayn’s hand and pulling him off the trail so they’re out of everyone’s way. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Zayn admits. Maybe he won’t need three or four years to get over this. “Just destroyed every ounce of pride I once had, but whatever.”

“Your pride needed to be bruised, I’m sure,” Harry tells him, still holding onto his wrist, his thumb moving slowly against Zayn’s skin. “Looked like it hurt from where I was sitting.”

“Yeah, glad you and all your friends saw it,” Zayn mumbles, turning to look over his shoulder where Caroline and the others are sitting. The guy from Frosty’s is staring at them, watching them with a hand held over his eyes. Zayn wants to stick his tongue out at him like an angry child. “You still going out with that guy, or whatever?”

He looks back in time to see Harry shrug. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On you.”

Zayn laughs at that, trying to ignore the way that his stomach flutters in delight at Harry’s words. “Are you busy later?” Zayn asks, to which Harry shakes his head. “Then we’ll go out.”

“Okay.”

“But I gotta go home first and get ready.”

“I could go with you,” Harry says. “I can text Caroline and let her know.”

It sounds like an appealing idea, bringing Harry back to his place, but Zayn’s apartment is a disaster. He still has clothes to clean up off his floor, a sink full of dishes that need to be done, and he could probably stand to sweep his floors before having company. And he has...things to put away. Stuff that he’d rather Harry not see.

“No, I’ll come and get you. I’ve got to do something first, but we’ll meet up, alright?” Zayn says, pulling his hand out of Harry’s grasp. “I’ll text you. Will you answer this one?”

Harry laughs and nods. “Think I can manage that one.”

“Good,” Zayn says. He reaches up and strokes his thumb along the curve of Harry’s smile, his chest tightening from how much he’s missed it. He leans forward and kisses Harry’s cheek, smiling at him before he turns to go.

Zayn takes the bus back and considers his first day as a runner to be a success.

//\\\//\\\

“Is this, like, the only place in the city worth going to?” Harry asks, as they round the corner to Frosty’s and Zayn blushes. He hadn’t really thought about how Harry was here before, how he saw Zayn here and coming here again might be overkill.

“It’s my favorite place to eat,” he says in response. And not only did he forget about Harry coming here before, but he didn’t have time to plan a proper date like he would have wanted. But Harry’s not the kind of guy that you need to impress with date location and all that other stuff. He only wants Zayn to be himself. And what’s more Zayn than going toFrosty Palace for a meal? “We could find another place, if you want.”

“What? No. This is perfect,” Harry says, linking his fingers with Zayn’s. “I was just saying, everyone seems to come here a lot.”

“It’s the best there is,” Zayn says automatically. “And Vi’s pretty great. She’s the older woman that works here. She’s been here for years. She was one of the first people I met when I moved out here. She helped us get jobs at the garage we work at. Her son-in-law owns it.”

“Oh, that’s nice of her.”

Zayn nods his head in agreement and moves to open the door for Harry. He pauses when he sees inside. Everyone is in there: Louis, Nick, Liam, Sophia, Niall, and Caroline. They’re all sat in the back corner that Zayn likes, the one that allows him to see the diner perfectly. Fuck.

“Um. Do you wanna go somewhere else?” Zayn asks, rubbing at his chin. “There’s a place a couple train stops away that’s pretty good. I bet you’ve never gone there.”

“Why would we go there? We're already here.”

“I know, but it’s—“ Zayn sighs and shakes his head. “Everyone I know is in there.”

Harry frowns and peeks around Zayn’s shoulder, trying to see what Zayn sees. “We’ll sneak by them, okay? We’ll get a table on the other side, behind that little wall divider, they won’t notice us, okay?”

Zayn nods and allows Harry to tug him inside. They move quickly, ducking behind decorations and other people until they’re safely sat out of sight. Harry’s laughing as he sits down, clutching the menu they stole from a waitress to his chest.

“We ran in here like we were criminals,” Harry wheezes, tears forming in his eyes as he laughs, a loud barking sound that Zayn shouldn’t find as endearing as he does. “I can’t believe that.”

“I don’t want to spend tonight with anyone else,” Zayn says, “I just want to be with you.”

Harry smiles at that, blushing as he opens his menu. They both order a burger and fries with a milkshake and a glass of water. Well, that’s what they order after Zayn tells Harry there’s not a chance in hell he’s going to order a salad at Frosty’s.

“It looks good.”

“I don’t care. You can’t order a salad. It’s against Frosty law.”

“Frosty law?”

“Yes. I think the law says that you have to get something greasy, you can’t eat off anyone else’s plate, and that you can’t get a salad.”

“Right, I’m sure those are real,” Harry laughs, rolling his eyes. “Sound like you just made them up because you don’t want me to take any of your fries.”

Zayn grins and takes a sip of his water so he can’t answer. Obviously there are no rules at Frosty’s, but Zayn knows Harry well enough to know that while he talks a big game about eating healthy, he’s not as healthy as he thinks he is, or as healthy as he wants people to think he is. So of course he’s going to steal Zayn’s fries and drink half his milkshake. Then later, when they make it home, he’ll be hungry again. That’s just how it is.

“I plead the fifth on that one,” Zayn tells him. And Harry nods, like he knew Zayn would. “But how about you tell me why you moved to Chicago?”

“I wanted a change of scenery,” Harry says. “It felt stifling at home. I was bored and tired of everything. I went to Florida to get away and while I was there I realized that I didn’t miss home. I didn’t want to go back. So I called Caro-“

“Zayn,” someone shouts, right before a table slams into the side of theirs. It’s Louis’ and the others. “What’re you doing sitting over here? Did you not see us when you came in?”

Zayn sighs, shaking his head. He knew this would happen. Harry doesn’t seem to mind, judging by the smile on his face as Niall pulls up a chair next to him.

“Hey Niall,” Harry mutters. “Hey Nick. What are you guys doing here?”

“Triple dating,” Niall says, taking Harry’s water from him.

“Vi, bring our food over here,” Louis shouts, taking the seat next to Zayn. “And we’re not out on a date.”

“Would be if you wanted to pay for anything,” Nick mumbles from across the table, smiling sweetly at Louis.

“I told you it was your turn to pay,” Louis says, not going for fake sweet like Nick is.

“And I told you that I’m done paying for everything.”

“Then you plan on staying home a lot,” Louis mumbles. Zayn rolls his eyes. He’s never seen two people so into each other fight it as much as Louis and Nick do. Normally he doesn’t mind it, but tonight, while they’re crashing on his date, it’s annoying the shit out of him.

“Don’t worry about that, Niall can pay for us all,” Liam says. “Employee discount, yeah?”

“What the hell makes you think they give us a discount?” Niall says. “Right, Vi?”

“Right,” Vi mumbles, handing out plates of food. She gives out the food slowly, Niall helping her, and then sets down a pile of receipts in the middle of the table. “Leave you lot to figure those out.”

“Thanks, Vi.” Zayn smiles at her and then turns back to Harry. Maybe he can ignore everyone else. Maybe he can pretend like it’s just the two of them. “Your food look good?”

“Delicious,” Harry answers. “Salad would have looked just as good, though.”

“You can’t eat a salad at Frosty’s,” Louis says, reaching out and grabbing some fries off Zayn’s plate. “But you’re new, right? Just moved here?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then you’ll learn.”

“Harry, this is my girlfriend Sophia,” Liam says from the end of the table, where the two of them are sharing a plate of cheese fries.

“Harry’s met her,” Caroline says, finally coming to sit with them. “I told them not to crash your date,” she whispers in Zayn’s ear, patting him on the shoulder as she goes to sit by Niall. “She stopped by the store the other day.”

Zayn sighs rubs at his forehead in annoyance. This isn’t the date he wanted. Nick, Louis and Niall are picking off Zayn and Harry’s plates. They can’t even eat their food and there’s no way that Zayn can have a private conversation with Harry like he wants.

He feels a foot knock against his ankle and looks up to see Harry smiling at him, like he can sense what Zayn’s thinking.

“You wanna get out of here?” Zayn asks, already reaching for his wallet to throw some money on the table.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry agrees.

//\\\//\\\

Zayn brings Harry back to his house, not ready to go their separate ways just yet. Zayn’s only a little embarrassed by how small his apartment is, mostly because he knows how nice and massive the one Caroline and Harry lives in is. But it’s his and it’s home, that’s enough for Zayn.

“Wow, you must really love cars,” Harry says, running his fingers along the pictures that Zayn has on his fridge. “Are these even yours?”

Zayn laughs and shakes his head. “No. Some of those are from car shows. Others are just pictures I took from cars I’ve seen parked on the street.”

“Or magazine clippings,” Harry says, thumbing at a picture that Zayn cut out of a magazine. It was ages ago. He was young and he likes the car. Those are his only excuses.

He grabs plates out of the cabinet and sets them down on the coffee table where the pizza they ordered rests. It feels like a waste of money to order food after they were already supposed to eat, but he’s starving. And so is Harry.

“It’s kind of crazy seeing your apartment,” Harry adds as he continues to look at Zayn’s stuff. “When we were in Florida I felt like I got a sense of who you are, but here it’s different. This is the real you. Cars and—Are these colored pencils?”

Zayn shrugs, trying his best to look nonchalant as he hangs his leather jacket on his bedpost. He wants to reach out and throw the pencils off his desk or to toss a blanket over it to hide all of that stuff away. He doesn’t usually show anyone, actually, he doesn’t show anyone. He can’t think of one person that knows about those and he wants to keep it that way, but he must have forgotten to hide it when he was cleaning up for Harry.

“What are these?” Harry asks, moving to grab at the stack of comics that Zayn left out. He’d been reading them to pass time before he met Harry on the red line. He hadn't thought—he forgot they were out.

“That’s nothing,” Zayn says, ripping the comic out of Harry’s hand. He tosses that one on the ground, kicking it under his bed. “That's just—Um. It’s just there.”

“Are they yours?”

Zayn breathes out harshly through his nose, pinching his eyes shut. He could like, like he always does, say they’re meant for someone else. But Harry would get so upset about the lie if he ever found out otherwise. And who is Harry going to tell? “Yeah. They’re mine,” Zayn admits, lifting up the rest of the stack and moving to put them away in his closet.

“You like them?”

“Sometimes,” Zayn says, dropping them down on the ground and closing his closet door quickly, like if he can shut it fast enough then Harry will forget he ever saw them. “I don’t know. I read them when I was a kid, old habits die hard, I guess. Some of the storylines are good. And I like some of the art.”

“And what about this?” Harry asks, holding up a sketchbook. Shit. He really did a shitty job cleaning up. He forgot everything. He picked his clothes up and then what did he do? Nothing, obviously. He did nothing. “The colored pencils, were you drawing?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I said no, would you?” Harry shakes his head. “Right. Then yeah. I’ve— That’s mine.”

“Can I look?”

Zayn shrugs and turns around, grabbing a slice of pizza. He sits down in one of his chairs and watches as Harry flips the pages. He tries to pretend like it doesn’t faze him, like he’s not worried what Harry thinks of him as he looks. His sketchbook is like a diary, showing off his creative thoughts and it’s nerve-racking to know that Harry’s seeing that part of him. No one has. Not Louis, not Liam, not Niall, not his parents or his sisters. No one. Just Zayn. Just Zayn and now Harry.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed about this,” Harry says, holding up his sketchbook.

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“You are. I can tell.” Zayn shrugs and takes another bite of pizza. “I just can’t tell if you’re embarrassed because I’m looking at them, or if you’re embarrassed because you don’t like this part of yourself.”

Zayn doesn't say anything, just focuses on chewing his pizza as Harry sets the sketchbook down and takes the seat next to him. It takes a few minutes for Zayn to figure out what to say, because he doesn’t have an answer. It’s a mixture of both. A little more the latter than the former, possibly.

It’s like how Zayn let his friends think Harry wasn’t much of anything. He likes to keep things close to his heart and sometimes it’s hard. He doesn’t know what’s okay to show about himself. Sometimes he feels like he doesn’t know how to be himself, just the image of himself that he’s projected out onto the world. Maybe he forgot or maybe he just doesn’t show it by choice. He’s not sure.

“You shouldn’t be afraid to show this side of yourself, Zayn,” Harry says, like he can hear Zayn’s thoughts. He pats Zayn on the knee before he starts sorting through Zayn’s DVDs. “Where are all the good movies?”

“Hey, those are all good.”

Harry snorts and shakes his head in disagreement. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at Zayn, and for some reason, Zayn finds himself breathing out. It feels okay. It feels like Zayn will be okay. He’s opened up and shown off a part of himself that he’s been keeping locked up and Harry’s here, in Zayn’s apartment, and everything feels like it’s going to be okay.

//\\\//\\\

They watch a Marvel movie, one that Zayn knows Harry only put on because of the comics he found. Like it’s some silent message to Zayn that it’s okay, and that Harry really doesn’t care, and Zayn shouldn’t feel like it’s something he needs to hide. Zayn doesn’t know that’s what Harry was doing exactly, but he thinks it might have been since Harry falls asleep thirty-six minutes in.

Zayn finishes the movie and then gently wakes Harry, a hand on his knee until Harry startles, choking on a snore as he wipes bits of drool away from his mouth.

“What happened?”

Zayn laughs lightly, hand still on Harry’s knee. “You fell asleep.”

“No I didn’t,” Harry mumbles, his arms raised above his head as he stretches. “Why isn’t the movie playing?”

“It’s over,” Zayn laughs. He glances at the clock behind him and sees that it’s nearly one. He figures it’s still early enough that he can ride the train with Harry to his apartment. “You ready to go or do you want to wake up a bit?”

“Are you kicking me out?” Harry asks, offended, staring at Zayn with wide, bleary eyes.

“No. I’m not. Just—whenever you wanna go, is fine.”

Harry nods and closes his eyes, tugging his knees up to his chest as he curls into a ball on Zayn’s chair. “Think I might stay.”

Zayn nods once and then stands, patting Harry on the thigh as he does it. He moves towards his little entrance hall, where sets of drawers are built into the wall, and grabs his pajamas. He changes there in the hallway and then goes to brush his teeth. Halfway through, Harry joins him. He frowns down at the sink and then squirts toothpaste onto his finger.

“I’ve got a spare,” Zayn mutters, words garbled as he brushes.

“Too late,” Harry says.

They crawl into bed together – after Harry strips down to his boxers – and Zayn lies back with a groan, feeling the weight of the day roll off his body. His elbow still hurts from falling on his run, his back sore along with his thighs, but he think he’ll live to see another day.

Harry shifts next to him, tossing and turning for a minute until his legs brush up against Zayn’s under the blankets.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks, voice low.

“Trying to sleep.”

Harry groans once more, and in the dark Zayn can see as he sits up, leans over Zayn’s body to grab his arm. He tugs, forcing Zayn onto his side and then burrows against him like a cat, pressing his body against Zayn’s and forcing Zayn to wrap an arm around him.

“Now you can try to sleep,” Harry sighs. “Missed sleeping with you, you know.”

Zayn smiles at that, letting his eyes fall shut. “Yeah, me too,” mumbles Zayn, kissing the side of Harry’s neck. He grips onto Harry tighter, trying to get him to stop wiggling around, and then drifts off to sleep.

//\\\//\\\

Harry stays the next day. They sleep in until eleven, sprawled out across the bed, limbs tangled under the blankets as they sleep. It’s the sound of shouts outside Zayn’s window, a woman chasing her dog around the courtyard that wake them both.

They wake slowly, stretching out their limbs and lying in bed for longer than needed. Zayn keeps his eyes closed, stroking his thumb against Harry’s back as he tries to fall back asleep.

“Can I make you breakfast?” Harry asks, voice gravely.

“If you want. Not sure what I have.”

“I’ll find something,” Harry says. Zayn feels him kiss his nose before he crawls out of bed, rolling over Zayn to get out. “But you’re going to have to get up, you useless log.” He pats Zayn’s ass then Zayn hears his footsteps and his fridge open.

He can wake up. Somehow. He breathes out, stretching once more and trying to convince his body that it’s time and that it doesn’t need more sleep. He rises slowly, getting up and going to the bathroom before he joins Harry.

Harry seems to be doing something with eggs, but he’s reading his phone and stumbling around Zayn’s tiny apartment to find other things he needs.

“Are you using a recipe?”

“I am. It’s going to be best breakfast of your life,” Harry assures him, grinning at Zayn over his shoulder. “You sit there and look pretty, while I work my magic.”

Zayn snorts, nodding as he rests his feet on the table. He watches Harry for a while, as he chops vegetables that Zayn didn’t even know he had, as he beats eggs with a fork, but eventually he grows bored, wanting something to do besides sit there and watch. So he gets up and grabs his sketchbook.

Zayn’s never drawn from reality, just from his mind, but he thinks he could try it. He draws while Harry cooks, pencil across paper as he does his best to capture Harry in his kitchen. It ends up being a stylized cartoon version of Harry, but it works. And drawing makes time pass, makes everything move a little faster as Zayn becomes immersed in his work.

“Is that supposed to be me?”

“Supposed to be, yeah. I guess,” Zayn mumbles, putting his pencil down and looking at it. He tosses his sketchpad on his bed, not wanting Harry to look at it for too long and decide he’s not really into the idea of Zayn drawing. He holds his hands out greedily for his breakfast. “An omelet?”

“Not just any omelet. A Styles omelet.”

“Ah, that makes all the difference,” Zayn jokes, smiling as he takes the fork from Harry. “It looks good.”

“Tastes even better,” Harry mumbles, a bit of egg falling out of his mouth as he talks.

Zayn takes a bite and nods, because it does taste pretty good. There’s nothing really special about the omelet except that Harry made it, but that’s enough for Zayn. He’s starving anyway, so who is he to deny any kind of food at this point?

//\\\//\\\

Zayn pops open the can of oil and leans over the hood of the car. It’s almost second nature, changing the oil on a car. He’s done it so many times before. He drains the liquid, paying attention so that he doesn’t fill in too much. A part of him wishes that there were a machine to do this for him, to do the tedious tasks that get boring after a while.

It’s his third oil change of the day. But there’s not a machine to do this, so Zayn sticks it out, canister balanced carefully in his hand as he continues to pour.

Louis approaches, wiping his hands off on a rag and leaning against the side of the car. They haven’t had a chance to talk all morning, both of them swamped with work as people try to avoid going to work on a Monday by getting their car checked out.

“So how are you and Harry doing?” Louis asks, which is the last thing that Zayn expected to hear out of him.

“We’re good, I guess. Haven’t talked to him in a while. But yeah, we’re good. Why?” Zayn asks, tossing the empty can into the trash as he takes the rag away from Louis. As he cleans his hands off, Louis moves to finish the car off for Zayn.

“You guys left pretty early the other night.”

“Yeah, it was getting a little too—I don’t know. Wanted to find a little quiet.”

“So you guys wanted to be alone,” Liam says, smiling as he steps out from behind Zayn. “Sorry, need a break.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Zayn mumbles.

“Well, glad you made off better than me,” Louis mutters, shaking his head as he slams the hood of the car down.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means Nick and Louis got into a fight after you left,” Liam tells him. “Started bickering, then started calling each other names, then Nick stormed out. Louis had to chase after him.”

“I didn’t chase after him,” Louis says, glaring at Liam. “I left the diner and just so happened to be walking in the same direction as him.”

“Caroline said she saw you two fighting when she left, which was twenty minutes later.”

“Caroline is obviously mistaken,” Louis says, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Zayn shakes his head when Louis holds it out towards him. He’s not in the mood to smoke right now. “And the only reason we were fighting is because he’s a fucking idiot.”

“He’s your fucking idiot, though,” Zayn says. He and Liam both laugh while Louis glares.

“I don’t even like him half the time. He’s a dick.”

“So are you.”

“Thanks,” Louis mutters, smiling sweetly as he flips Zayn off. “Glad to know you’re on my side.”

“You’re both dicks. Is that better?” Zayn asks, getting up so he can grab the little notepad where they write down the services they performed on the car and the prices to give to the customer. “If you wanted it easy then you shouldn’t have broken up with Eleanor.”

Louis mumbles something that Zayn can’t make out. He shrugs and goes back to writing out the receipt. If something truly bad were happening between Louis and Nick then he’d care, but this is normal, and it’s Monday, he’s tired.

“I ordered those parts for your car,” Liam says finally. “They should be here fairly soon. I’d say within the next week or two, since I didn’t make them a priority.”

“Good shit,” Louis mutters, stubbing out his cigarette. They really shouldn’t be smoking in the garage. “Hopefully it comes next week. Then we can get started on it next weekend.”

“Why not this weekend?”

“Niall’s throwing a party,” Louis says as an answer. “Promised him we’d go. Promised for you, as well. So don’t make any plans this weekend, you’re Niall’s.”

Zayn nods and makes a mental note to ask Harry if he wants to go, or if he’s already going if he wants to go with Zayn. It could be a date. Kind of. A second date? No, they already went on that while they were in Florida. This can be their second date now that they’re back together.

//\\\//\\\

Zayn gets busy with work, two cars rolling in from an accident that need the bodywork redone. And because of that - because he’s fixing engines and replacing doors and bumpers and mirrors and lights - he doesn’t get to talk to Harry until the middle of the week.

He’s lying in bed, his arm draped over his eyes as he listens to the phone ring in his ear. He’s tired, the week catching up with him quickly and it’s not even near finished yet. He doesn’t know how he’s going to make it.

“Hello?” Harry’s voice is deep and welcoming, the best thing that Zayn’s heard in days.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Yeah, I know. What are you doing?”

“Lying in bed. Tired,” Zayn tells him, rolling onto his side and placing the phone on his other ear so it’s not pressing into his jaw so hard. “What are you doing?”

“Making me and Caroline dinner, she’s going to be home within the hour, so I want to try and get this done.”

“Bring me some.”

Harry laughs, a breathy sound that makes Zayn smile. “You wouldn’t like it. Well, you might. I don’t think either of us actually know if you’ll like it.”

“Think I’ll know what I like. What is it?”

“Ham.”

Zayn nods. Yeah, Harry’s right. He doesn’t know how that tastes, so it’d be hard to say if he’ll like it or not, since he doesn’t eat it. “Guess you’re right then.” Harry laughs again and Zayn sighs. God. “Is it cheesy to say that I miss you?”

“Are we being cheesy?”

“I am, apparently,” Zayn says.

“Well, then I suppose I miss you too,” Harry tells him and Zayn wishes that Harry was here, or that he was there. Either. He doesn’t really care. He just wants it to be the weekend so he can do something besides work and lie in bed like a useless blob, waiting to do it all over again the next day.

“Are you going to Niall’s thing this weekend?” Harry asks, muttering something under his breath about nutmeg.

“Louis mentioned it to me. I guess, yeah. You wanna go?”

“It’ll be fun, right? I can meet more people. I don’t know very many.”

“You know more than I do,” Zayn says. And it’s true. Zayn’s been living in the city for years and he’s kept to his tight knit group, rarely branching out to meet anyone else. He doesn’t want to. He wouldn't have bothered to meet Harry if Harry hadn’t made sure it happened. That’s just how it is.

“Then we can both meet people.”

“Or we can spend the evening on his couch, just the two of us. And then, after we’re there for a while, we can sneak out and find something else to do.”

Harry laughs and Zayn can almost see him shaking his head. God, Zayn can’t wait until the weekend. Not much longer. Not much longer until he’s done with work and he can see Harry and do more than work on cars.

//\\\//\\\

The rest of the week doesn’t take its time passing by. Zayn’s still busy with work, too busy to see Harry, so the day of Niall’s party comes as a warm welcome for Zayn. He’s never actually been looking forward to going out as much as it feels like he is right now. He leaves early, far earlier than he should.

Wearing a leather jacket and jeans, Zayn bounds up the steps to Harry’s apartment, his body vibrating from excitement. He hits the buzzer several times, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waits for Harry.

“Hello?”

“It’s me, come down,” Zayn instructs, tapping his fingers against the brick.

“How polite,” Harry grumbles and Zayn grins, moving back down the stairs to wave up at Harry. He can see the smile on Harry’s face, the shake of his head before he disappears for a minute.

“I thought I told you to be here thirty minutes ago?” is the first thing Harry asks when he steps out of his building. “Why are you late?”

Zayn shrugs. His only excuse is that he walked here, but that’s not really an excuse for why he’s late. At least it wouldn’t be to Harry. Maybe. Zayn’s not sure, so he just shrugs again, a smile on his face.

“What are you smiling for?” Harry asks, his eyes squinted in suspicion.

“Just happy to see you is all,” he says. “Even if you’re grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Harry protests and Zayn nods, reaching out for Harry. He slips an arm around Harry’s waist, then leans forward to kiss his temple. “And I’m happy to see you, too.”

“Good to hear.” He guides Harry down the street. They’re not walking the exact route to Niall’s place, but west is the general direction, so it’s not like they’re going the wrong way. “And we’re going to be late if you don’t pick up the pace.”

“Why? The bus stop is just two blocks over.”

“We’re not taking the bus.”

“We’re not taking the bus?”

“No, we’re walking.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Harry asks and Zayn laughs.

“We won’t walk the whole way,” Zayn explains. “We’ll go until our feet are tired, then we’ll get on the train. Besides, no one shows up to a party early. Or on time, for that matter.”

“I promised Niall we’d be there.”

“And we will. But I just—it’s been days since I’ve seen you. I wanted to spend time with you before we get there and you go off to make new friends.”

Harry smiles at that, the first smile that Zayn’s seen today and he sets off a warm, pleasant feeling in his chest. It’s nice to see him smile. It’s nice to know that Zayn can put it there. God, he just wants to say fuck the party and take Harry back to his place, where he can make Harry smile the whole night through.

“Sometimes you remind me so much of the Zayn I met this summer. It’s nice,” Harry admits, looking at the ground as he says it.

“I’m the same Zayn no matter where we are, you know that right?”

“I know. It’s just, you were so sweet once your shyness wore off,” Harry says, turning to look at Zayn. “Here you feel more closed off, like you have more to hide from. I can’t tell if it’s from me or just in general.”

“It’s easier to feel like you can be your whole self – or a better version of it, I guess – when you’re in a new place. A place you won’t see ever again,” Zayn explains. That’s what it felt like with Harry. But he won’t tell him that he was still closed off there, still scared to be certain parts of himself. He’s still learning how to do that, but that doesn’t mean he’s not the same person. “I’m still Zayn, whether we meet here or in Florida or in another place entirely.”

“Good to know,” Harry mumbles. He knocks his elbow into Zayn’s ribs, forcing Zayn to look at him. Harry’s smiling at him again, soft and warm. “Wasn't trying to make you feel bad.”

“I don’t feel bad,” Zayn tells him. “It’d take more than you saying that to do any lasting damage.”

“Good, because I want to know more about what Chicago Zayn does. Tell me about him.”

“I’m working on a car,” Zayn says instantly. “Like, outside of work. It’s this one that Louis’ just bought.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“Make it decent. It’s a pile of shit right now. All beat up and ugly.”

“And you can fix it?”

“Yeah, I can fix anything,” Zayn says, grinning with his tongue pressed against his teeth. “It helps that Louis and Liam will be working on it too.”

“Can I see it?”

“If you want, I’ll have to talk to Louis since it’s not my car.”

“I don’t think Louis likes me much,” Harry admits. “Can’t figure out why.”

Zayn shrugs. “It’s Louis, he doesn’t like anyone.” It’s not exactly the truth. Louis doesn’t have a problem with most people, just the ones that he doesn’t know. “Don’t worry about him. If I like you then Louis will.”

“And you like me?”

Zayn shrugs once more and Harry laughs, shoving Zayn as he stumbles across the sidewalk, narrowly missing a bicycle chained to a pole. Zayn laughs with him, reaching out and tugging Harry close again, guiding them towards the train.

//\\\//\\\

Walking to Niall’s might not have been his best idea, Zayn thinks. When they finally arrive it feels like everyone they could possibly know is there, he and Harry arriving late. Harry gives him a look when he sees that, one that says _I told you we should have taken the bus._

“Don’t look at me like that,” Zayn says, smoothing out the crease between Harry’s eyebrows with his thumb. “We’re here. They probably just got here, too.”

Harry sighs and nods his head in agreement, taking Zayn’s hand as they move through the party. Niall had buzzed them up, screaming into the intercom for them to get their asses up here. Now that they’re up here though, Niall’s nowhere in sight. Typical, Zayn thinks, shaking his head.

Zayn can see Louis though, he’s standing in the corner with a leggy brunette, his hand on her hip. “Oh god,” he mutters. This can’t be good.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks. Zayn ignores him for a moment, glancing around for Nick. He sees him stumbling out of the kitchen, arm around the shoulder of a guy that Zayn’s never seen before. He’s got tattoos creeping up his arms, wrapping around his neck and disappearing beneath his shirt. All it does is confirm that it’s not Louis, which is definitely not good.

“Louis and Nick are both here with someone else.”

“Oh,” Harry mutters, pressing against Zayn as he glances around for them.

Louis and Nick must have just spotted the other, because now they’re glaring at each other, both draped around the person that they’re with, like they’re doing it just to spite the other. They probably are. Zayn has his money placed on the fact that they probably got into a fight, decided it was over, and then decided they were going to make the other jealous. Sounds like Louis. More specifically, it sounds like Louis when it comes to Nick.

“What are they doing?”

“They’re probably fighting,” Zayn sighs, shaking his head.

“Nick really likes him, you know. He won’t admit it, and I haven’t known him long enough to really decide that, but it’s obvious,” Harry says. “And judging by the angry look on Louis face, he likes Nick. So what are they doing?”

Zayn shrugs. “They’re a mess. Always have been.”

Louis finally turns his attention away from Nick, looking back to the girl he’d been talking to moments ago. He doesn’t look back and Zayn hopes that the glaring match is all that happens tonight.

Next to him, Harry waves at Nick, who nods before he turns back to the guy next to him, hand on his cheek. The guy isn’t looking at Nick though; he’s staring at Zayn. There’s an odd sort of smile on his face, his lip curled upwards, like he recognizes Zayn. He waves, and Zayn turns away from him, because something tells him that shouldn’t entertain him. Something tells him that he does, in fact, know the guy accompanying Nick.

“Do you know him?” Harry asks, frowning at the guy and then at Zayn.

Zayn shakes his head, because he’s not sure. “I don’t think he’s waving at me,” Zayn lies, gripping tighter to Harry’s hand and tugging Harry further into Niall’s apartment.

//\\\//\\\

They find Niall after a while, sitting on his balcony with a couple other people. He dives at them when he sees them; pulling Harry into a hug and introducing him to the girls he’s with.

Zayn feels out of place out on the balcony, surrounded by people that he doesn’t know. He can see Louis inside with that girl still, talking to Liam and Sophia. Zayn longs to be with him, to be with people that he can hold a conversation with without feeling uncomfortable.

Strangers aren’t Zayn’s thing. They make him feel like an outsider, make his tongue feel heavy and tied, like he couldn’t find a way to talk even if he wanted to. So instead of talking, he stands there, hands in his pockets, fumbling around with the lighter in there and listening as Harry makes friends with the girls.

“Hey,” Zayn mutters, touching Harry’s elbow to get his attention. “I’m gonna go get another drink. You want something?”

“Yeah, get me another,” Harry says, handing Zayn his empty bottle. He smiles at him and then turns back to the girls, leaving Zayn to go.

Zayn moves through the crowd without much trouble, keeping his head down and trying to avoid making eye contact. He finds the beer that Harry wants in the fridge, shoved in the back. Zayn laughs, shaking his head at the thought of Harry drinking Niall’s special, private beer designated for himself. But knowing Harry, he probably charmed his way into getting some.

Zayn mixes himself a drink, something strong that burns as it slides down his throat. He sighs when he swallows, leaning back against the counter and staring at the liquid in his cup. He drains the last of it, and then turns for more.

“Zayn,” says a voice and Zayn looks over his shoulder. It’s the guy that Nick was with. He’s giving Zayn that same smile that doesn’t settle right in his stomach. “Funny running into you.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Zayn mutters, lifting his cup to his lips.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” Zayn shakes his head, forcing the guy to laugh. “We met when you first moved here.”

“That was a while ago, sorry.”

“Names Blake,” the guy says and Zayn shrugs. But as he’s lifting the cup to his mouth once more he stops. He looks at the guy, head tilted to the side because he does know that name but he can’t place it. He stares at him, eyes trailing from his face to his tattoos, trying to get a memory to spark inside of him.

Oh. _Oh._

It’s been ages. Zayn hasn’t—Zayn hasn’t even thought about this guy since they called it quits. If that’s even what happened, Zayn can’t remember. They hadn’t been official, just a guy that lived in Zayn’s building that he hooked up with on a regular basis, until the guy moved away and Zayn forgot his number.

“Um. Yeah. I remember,” mumbles Zayn, setting Harry’s beer down so he can scratch at his scalp. “What are you doing here with Nick?”

“What are you doing here with that guy that looks like he could be a politician’s son?”

Zayn shakes his head. Harry doesn’t look—well. He dresses nicer than most people; clothes sharp and clean and smooth, delicate lines of expensive fabric that Zayn hasn’t thought to pay attention to since they first met. Harry’s Harry, and yeah, his taste in clothes is a bit rich for Zayn’s tastes, but he’s not Zayn, so what does he care? Harry hasn’t made a comment that Zayn wears – essentially – the same thing everyday, jeans, white shirt, and his leather jacket. At least in Chicago he does.

“Not really sure that’s any of your business, is it?” Zayn says, taking another drink.

Blake smiles at him as he steps closer, leaning against the counter beside Zayn. He rests his hand on Zayn’s elbow, gripping his biceps. Zayn stares down at his hand, looking up slowly at his face.

“How do you know Nick?”

“He’s dating my best friend,” Zayn says easily enough. “Which is why I asked what you’re doing with him.”

“Your friend the prissy one in the corner?” Blake asks, tilting his head towards the other room. Zayn doesn’t look, just nods, because it probably is Louis. “Well, it’s a good thing I just met Nick tonight, isn’t it?”

“Guess so.”

“What about you and that guy, then? You just meet him tonight or what?”

“Not really any of your business, is it?” Zayn says, pulling out of his grasp. He turns to replenish his cup so he can go back and join Harry.

Blake doesn’t seem to get what Zayn’s doing, so he leans against him, looking over Zayn’s shoulder. “He your boyfriend?”

“It was nice seeing you again, Blake,” Zayn says, tipping his cup at him as he picks up Harry’s beer, not bothering to look back as he moves towards the balcony.

Harry’s frowning at him through the glass door, head cocked as he looks between Blake and Zayn. Great. Wonderful. That’s exactly what Zayn needs right now.

“I thought you said you didn’t know him?” Harry takes his drink from Zayn, eyes never leaving him, like if he looks away Zayn will be able to tell a lie. And he didn’t lie. He didn’t. He hadn’t realized he knew Blake at the time.

“I don’t,” Zayn says. “Not really, anyway.”

“But you know him?”

“We’ve met.”

“It looked like it.”

“Are you mad?” Zayn asks, eyebrow raised.

Harry shrugs. “No. I just don’t understand why you lied,” he says. “Looks like you know him pretty well.”

“Yeah, well I don’t. I don’t know what to tell you, Haz.”

“How do you know him?”

God. Zayn really doesn’t want to get into this tonight. He just doesn't. He rubs at his temples, wishing that Harry would take his eyes off him for a second so he can breathe.

“He used to live in my building. Back when I first moved out here. We used to…know each other,” Zayn says, not really wanting to tell Harry they used to sleep together. “I forgot about him.”

“That’s the only reason you knew each other?” Harry asks.

“Are we really going to do this right now, Harry?” Zayn asks and Harry shrugs.

“Guess not,” he mumbles, turning away from Zayn to talk to the girls. All of which are pretending to have not been listening in on their conversation. Whatever. Zayn doesn’t know them. He doesn’t really give a shit; they can think what they want about him.

He doesn’t say anything as he stands, moving away from the balcony to find his friends. He’s not going to sit next to Harry and be ignored all night. Not when his best friends are here.

//\\\//\\\

Harry comes back to Zayn’s place. Why, he’s not sure. Not when Harry’s annoyed and angry, huffing instead of talking.

Zayn spent the rest of the party with Louis and Liam, laughing and drinking, pretending that Harry wasn’t on the other side of the apartment pissed out of his mind at him. Angry about something dumb, something he shouldn’t even be mad about. So it was a shock, of course it was, when Harry walked over towards him hours later and said that he was tired and ready to leave.

They took the train back in silence, sitting next to each other but for the most part pretending that the other wasn’t there.

And maybe it’s the alcohol that has Zayn feeling annoyed. He’s not as drunk as he wants to be, not as drunk as he would have been if Harry hadn’t come over and got him. He wishes he were. A bit.

“Are you going to sleep angry?” Zayn asks, watching as Harry steps out of his jeans, draping them over the arm of Zayn’s chair before he pulls his shirt off as well. “I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules?”

“What rules?” Harry mutters, crawling into bed, his back turned towards Zayn. It means Zayn’s got a nice view of his ass, but he feels like he can’t really appreciate it when Harry’s angry. It’s a cute little ass, though.

“The rules of life.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I’m not mad.”

Zayn snorts and Harry looks over his shoulder, glaring as he throws a pillow down on his side of the bed.

“Did you come here just to make me feel bad?”

“If you feel bad then that’s your own problem, not mine,” Harry says and Zayn sighs, rolling his eyes as he shuts off the light. He undresses quietly while Harry lies down, arms folded over his chest as he stares at the ceiling.

“I don’t think you came back here to fight,” Zayn says, getting into bed. “Doesn’t really sound like you.” Harry doesn’t say anything as Zayn lies next to him. “I didn’t remember I knew him when you asked. I didn’t lie. And he’s no one, so why are you upset?”

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbles. Zayn laughs and Harry frowns, so he leans forward a bit, kissing Harry’s shoulder. “I just don’t—I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

“Seems like it matters to you.”

“It doesn’t,” Harry says and Zayn kisses him again. It feels like Harry’s angry on principle, like he thinks this is something he should be mad about, even though he really shouldn’t be. “It’s just annoying to know you used to sleep with him.”

“Used to. Before we met,” Zayn tells him. “There’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“Just annoying to think about it. And he was all over you.”

“I wasn’t all over him.”

“You were still there.”

“Well, next time someone wants to drape themselves over me I’ll make sure to move.”

“Good,” Harry says, nodding.

“You still angry?”

Harry sighs and shrugs, rolling over to face Zayn. “Wasn’t really angry to begin with. Just annoyed, I guess. Not with you. With him. I don’t know, a little bit with you. Mostly because he was there. I don’t know. I’m being dumb, aren’t I?”

“Little bit,” Zayn tells him, laughing when Harry wrinkles his nose. “Just being honest with you, love.”

Harry nods once more, sighing. Zayn smiles at him, reaching out and tugging Harry closer, his lips pressed against Harry’s forehead.

“Sorry for being an ass,” Harry whispers. Zayn just nods. He’s tired and doesn’t really feel like talking about it anymore. It’s caused enough problems for one night.

“Just sleep, Harry. Forget about it,” Zayn tells him, closing his eyes. Harry doesn’t say anything, just shimmies around the bed a bit. After several minutes Zayn feels lips against his chin. He smiles, nudging Harry with his knee beneath the blankets.

//\\\//\\\

A few days later Zayn stays after work to help Louis with his car. They’ve done a few things to it, and found reasons to put off the rest – like time and money – to focus on the things that absolutely need to be finished. So under Louis’ hood looks great, Zayn runs his fingers along the new engine and nods in satisfaction. It’s amazing.

“You been working on this without us?” Zayn asks, because something has been done to it. He just can’t figure out what.

“Might have,” Louis says, shrugging. “Helps when you don’t have anything to distract you.”

He means Nick. Of course he does, Zayn thinks, rolling his eyes. “So we’re working on the brakes today?”

“Yeah. Boss and I checked them out, they don’t need to be replaced entirely, but it definitely needs new brake pads. We can’t skip out on that shit, man.”

“I’m not gonna do anything to this car that’ll cause you to die,” Zayn says, shaking his head as he claps Louis on the back. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Well, you should be worried about this heap of shit falling on me because you two want to have a conversation,” Liam shouts, kicking his leg out from under the car.

“I don’t know why you’re under there,” Zayn laughs. “We’ve got to lift her higher than that.”

He hears Liam sigh as he rolls out from under the car, glaring at Zayn as he stands and moves to help Louis so they can lift the car higher. They could do it where Liam was, but Zayn’s feeling lazy. He doesn’t really want to kneel on the ground or lie under the car.

They work together on taking out the old, rusted, dirty brake pads and changing the rotor. Everything is rusted and so gross that Zayn’s amazed Louis was even able to drive the car to the shop in the first place, at least not without causing an accident or running every red light in the city.

“Louis, this is disgusting,” Zayn says, wiping his hands on his jumpsuit. “Did you even look at it when you bought it?”

“No need to. I knew we could fix it,” Louis says. “And next time you see this beauty, it’ll be finished. Close to it.” He’s smiling, bright and happy. There’s still so much left to do, but the car looks so much better, already ready to be out on the road.

“You’ve done good,” Zayn says, running his fingers along the hood. It still needs a paint job and several other things, but it’s nearly there. “I can’t believe how much you did without us.”

“It looks good, right?” Liam says, stepping away from the car to join them. “Still has a little ways to go before she’s perfect, but at least she’ll be able to run. You did good, Lou.”

“We did good,” Louis corrects. “It’s not just me. All I did was elongate the project.”

“But you’ll be able to drive her.”

“Yeah. That’ll be nice.” There’s a ghost of a smile on Louis’ face as he sighs, rubbing his hands on his jumpsuit. “We’ll have to make it a thing, like, once a month or something we come back to her.”

Zayn nods and leans against the side of the car. “We can do that,” he says, and as he says it he can see a blond head of hair bouncing towards them across the yard. “Looks like we got company.”

Louis and Liam turn to see Niall, the blond waving at them and shouting out in excitement.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Louis says, clapping his hand with Niall’s and pulling him into a hug. “Didn’t know you knew how to venture out this far west.”

“I don't,” Niall says. “But I heard you three were working on a car and I knew I had to see this.”

“Came to judge us, Horan?” Liam asks.

Niall laughs, shaking his head. “No. Harry mentioned it, so I figured I should…pay my respects or whatever.”

“To the car?” Zayn laughs. “It’s not dying.”

“Could be, with you three working on it.”

“Oh you’ve got jokes,” Liam says, tugging Niall in and messing up his hair.

“How did Harry know what we were doing?” Louis asks, frowning.

“His boyfriend told him,” Niall shouts, voice strained as he tries to fight off Liam. At his words both of his friends turned to look at him, eyebrows arched in question.

“Not his boyfriend,” Zayn mumbles. “And what does it matter? We’re fixing a car, not robbing a bank.”

“You know, we should try that.”

“Try what?”

“Robbing a bank.” Liam snorts. “No, I’m being serious. We can start some kind of gang; paint our logo on the back of our leather jackets. We can put...”

“Your names so everyone could see how stupid you are,” Niall mutters.

“Birds,” Louis says, clapping his hands together like he just thought of something genius. “We can put birds on the back of our jackets. We both have bird tattoos, Liam’s got a feather; it’s perfect.”

“Why would we put anything on the back of our leather jackets?” Zayn asks, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

“So when they do news reports on us they can give us a name.”

“That’s the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Niall laughs, eyes shining and mouth hung open as he takes in what Louis just said. “Where do you even come up with this stuff?”

“You’re just angry that you’d have to wear that matching jacket Lou and Caroline have for your gang.”

“What jacket?”

“The pink one,” Liam says and Niall glares, shaking his head.

“No way, we’d have something much better if we were in a gang. No one takes you seriously with pink jackets,” Niall says.

Zayn watches in amusement, no longer bothering to hide it, as the three of them argue about jackets they’d wear in their imaginary gangs. He shakes his head and wanders off, pulling out his phone to text Harry. He wants to see him tonight, doesn’t want to wait another week like he did before.

//\\\//\\\

Zayn feels almost giddy when he sees the look on Harry’s face later that evening. He’s in his car, black mustang engine running as Harry walks down the steps. It’s almost like he didn’t expect it to be Zayn, judging by the way he frowned when he walked outside, like Zayn had lied to him when he called and said to come out.

It’s part of the surprise of their evening. Like most dates Zayn’s been on in his lifetime, he never has any kind of idea what to do. But inspiration struck when he was on the phone with his mother on the bus ride home. She told him about their weekend, how his older sister is signing up for beauty school, how his little sister was asked out by a boy – Zayn reminds himself once more to find out more information on this – and how his youngest sister got first place in the science fair. But what really helped him out was the bit about how his parents went on a date to the drive-in.

There aren’t many left, but there are still some out there. Zayn remembers going once a month with his family when he was younger, when he still lived at home. And after a bit of research, Zayn found that there was one here, about an hour or so west of the city.

It’s too far for public transportation, so Zayn had to get the car out. He’s upset that he’s losing his spot, but it’s worth it to see the look on Harry’s face as he climbs into the passenger seat.

“Where exactly did you get this?” Harry asks.

“It’s mine,” Zayn explains. “She’s usually parked outside of my apartment. The city really isn’t fit for a car, so I don’t get to bring her out much.”

“No, it’s not really…fit for a car,” Harry says. “Does that mean you’re taking me out of the city?”

Zayn shakes his head, motioning for Harry to put on his seatbelt. Harry does and then Zayn puts the car into drive, rolling gently down Harry’s block. “I’m taking you to the drive-in, you ever been to one?”

“Not in years,” Harry says, fiddling with the radio. “Is this like, a reasonable trip, or are we going to another state for this?”

“About an hour away,” Zayn says. And then he realizes something, as he pauses for a stop sign. He looks at Harry, who catches the movement and frowns at him, wondering why Zayn’s staring at him. “Forgot to say hello,” he explains, leaning forward to kiss Harry.

Harry smiles into the kiss, his thumb stroking Zayn’s cheek. A car horn sounds behind them and Zayn pulls away, laughing at the blush on Harry’s cheeks.

//\\\//\\\

“Have you thought about going home since you’ve been here?” Zayn asks, rolling onto his side to look at Harry.

They’re at the drive-in, seats reclined and radio turned up so they can hear the audio, but that doesn't stop them from talking. It’s a double feature; everyone knows the first movie is shitty. He’s allowed to talk if he wants to.

“Not really,” answers Harry, tugging on the bottom of his shirt. “I miss my family, I guess, but I think I made the right decision by moving. I’ve made friends, and you’re here.”

“The only perk.”

Harry snorts. “I wouldn’t say that, but there are some advantages to having you around.”

“None that we’ve explored,” Zayn says and Harry looks at him, eyebrow arched and unimpressed. It’s so familiar that it makes him laugh, makes him reach out and rest his hand on Harry’s arm, fingers curling around the skin. “I didn’t mean that the way you took it.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Harry says, still staring at Zayn’s hand. He brings his finger up and touches him lightly, tracing along the skin next to the ring that Zayn’s wearing. “I like this.”

The ring is one that Zayn’s had for years. He can’t remember exactly where he got it, silver in color with a round, flat black stone on top. He pulls it off and holds it out to Harry, offering it to him.

“You can have it if you want,” he says, watching as Harry takes it.

“You gonna ask me to go steady next?” He smiles at Zayn, slipping the ring on his finger and looking at it under the dim glow created from the lights outside.

Zayn laughs, because no, that’s not at all what he’s thinking about right now. “Gonna ask if you wanna crawl into the backseat with me?”

Harry’s eyes grow a little wider at that, looking around like the cars next to them might be able to hear. They’re parked in the back, the closest car several spaces over. No one can see them, not unless they’re paying more attention than they should be. Zayn’s not worried about it, and neither should Harry.

“Are you being serious?”

“Yeah, of course,” Zayn says, reaching between his seat and the door for the lever to prop the seat up. He pushes it up as far as it’ll go, leaving himself enough room to crawl out if, and then slides it up a bit. “Come on.”

He smiles at Harry before he moves, using one hand on the back of Harry’s headrest to keep his balance as he maneuvers into the backseat. It’s difficult and Zayn is slightly out of breath when he drops into the seat with a huff. He takes off his jacket, throws it into the front, and then pats the back of Harry’s seat.

“You coming or you gonna leave me back here alone?”

“Oh my god,” Harry groans, his voice more giddy than exasperated as he follows the steps that Zayn took. Seat up, pushed forward, and then he’s climbing, gangly limbs knocking into Zayn’s as his shoe gets stuck on the steering wheel. “You’re trying to kill me.”

Harry’s breathless, laughing as he lies back on the seat, his legs in Zayn’s lap. Zayn rests his hand on the curve of Harry’s thigh, waiting for him to catch his breath.

“Do you remember Florida?” Zayn asks, thumb stroking against the material of Harry’s pants.

“Yeah.”

“How much do you remember?”

“All of it.”

“Things felt easier then, didn’t they?”

“Not easier, just different,” Harry says, grabbing Zayn’s wrist and tugging at it until Zayn is lying down too. It’s a tight fit and Harry’s half on the seat, half off. Zayn’s lying mostly on Harry but he doesn’t seem to mind, and Zayn likes the closeness. He likes feeling and knowing that Harry’s there. “I think you’re just over thinking things. You’re worried about too much. Other people, if you’re doing things right, whatever it is, stop.”

“Not worried,” Zayn says, reaching up to touch Harry’s cheek. “Just thinking.”

“Well, stop thinking.”

As Zayn nods Harry tilts his head up to kiss Zayn, his lips soft and gentle as he kisses him almost hesitantly. Zayn smiles into his, cupping Harry’s jaw and pulling him in closer.

They kiss for a while, ignoring the sounds of the movie drifting into the car from his speakers. Zayn’s attention is focused on Harry, on the soft curves of his body and the way their bodies come together in the kiss. Harry seems to have lost his worry about the other cars as he winds his fingers through Zayn’s hair.

Harry moans as Zayn’s mouth moves over his throat, Harry’s hands moving across his back. He feels Harry’s fingers slip under his shirt, resting against the small of his back.

“Zayn,” Harry murmurs and Zayn mumbles a response against his throat, unsure if Harry’s just saying his name or if he wants something. He turns his head and catches Zayn’s mouth in another kiss, and right. Zayn can handle that.

He kisses Harry and works his hands under his shirt, trying to find the buttons. He’s wearing a dark blue shirt that’s buttoned to his throat. It’s the cutest thing that Zayn’s ever seen, a boy as delightful as Harry dressing so modestly. Zayn works the buttons slowly, moving up to his knees so that he can pull it off Harry.

Harry’s back arches as Zayn’s fingers brush against his chest, their mouths still connected. Zayn finds his nipples easily, pinching them until Harry gasps, pulling Zayn closer. He keeps his touches slow and firm, feeling Harry squirm beneath him, his cock thick and heavy against his hips.

“I forgot about this,” Harry mumbles against Zayn’s lips, eyes closed.

“I thought you said you remembered everything about this summer,” Zayn retorts, moving lips to Harry’s neck once more. He trails kisses along his collarbone, moving down his chest and stopping at the erect nubs. He flicks his tongue out against them, laughing when Harry grips his hair, tugging.

“It’s not funny.” Harry’s voice is breathy, on the verge of something and it makes Zayn grin.

“It is a little bit,” Zayn says, sitting up and looking down at Harry. He shrugs his shirt off, tossing it down on the floor to join Harry’s own. “I forgot how sensitive you were.” To punctuate his point his strokes his thumb along Harry’s nipple. Harry grips his wrist, staring pointedly at him, but the goose bumps along his skin and the flutter of his eyelashes give him away.

And if Harry pressed his hand on Zayn’s chest then he’d feel the racing of Zayn’s heart, he’d feel the effect that he has on Zayn.

“I feel like that’s cheating,” Harry says and Zayn shakes his head, unbuttoning Harry’s jeans. “It’s going to be a nightmare getting those off.”

Zayn shrugs, tugging on them until they’re about mid-thigh. The only way he can get them off completely is to have Harry to do it, to crawl back into the front and wait for his jeans to join their shirts on the floor. Which just won’t do, Zayn’s afraid.

“Don’t need them off all the way, just enough to get my mouth on your cock.”

“Oh. Alright, then,” Harry mutters, shifting around to get more comfortable.

It hasn’t always been like this. Harry wasn’t always comfortable with Zayn in this way. It took awhile for them to have sex for the first time, Zayn remembers working up towards it slowly. Taking their time until finally it happened, with the sounds of the ocean through the open window as their background. And even then, Zayn found that Harry needed time to adjust to that new part of their relationship.

They haven’t had sex since Zayn left but he’s here now and Zayn wants him so bad. His cock is throbbing in his jeans, straining and begging to be touched. It’ll have to wait a while longer.

“Gonna keep staring at me?” Harry asks and Zayn grins, slipping down on the floor between Harry’s legs.

The head of Harry’s cock is slick with pre-come. Zayn thumbs over the head, listening to Harry gasp. Good, Zayn thinks, stroking Harry carefully for a moment, watching Harry’s face to see what he’s doing to him, to see the look on Harry’s face and how it changes when the movement of Zayn’s hand changes.

“You’re staring again,” Harry tells him.

“You’re pretty, it’s hard not to.”

He grins as he leans closer, mouthing at the head of Harry’s cock slowly, tongue flicking out gently. This close he can smell the musk that’s undeniably the other boy, rolling off of him and infiltrating Zayn’s senses.

“Is that better?” Zayn asks, watching as Harry nods.

“Yeah, that’s—Mhm.”

Zayn laughs again, mouth around Harry’s cock and sending the vibrations through his body. His hand wraps around the base as he sinks down over it, lips and tongue sliding further down the shaft.

Harry’s fingers curl around Zayn’s hair, gently guiding him to do what he wants. Zayn watches him, watches as Harry’s back arches when he flicks his tongue along his slit, how his breath catches when his dick hits the back of Zayn’s throat, and how he looks torn between pulling his own hair and Zayn’s, brain clouded with arousal.

The radio is silent now, the first movie over and Zayn realizes that he almost forgot about it entirely. Forgot where they were, forgot that there was anything else in the world besides Harry.

He sucks him faster, letting Harry’s hips shift up, pushing his cock further down as he fucks Zayn’s mouth. He lets Harry do most of the work, lets him find the rhythm as he does his best to match it.

It’s a sign of how long it’s been that Harry’s breath is coming in quicker, the grip he’s got on Zayn’s hair tightens as he mutters, “Fuck. Gonna-“

It’s choked off, broken by a moan as he comes in the back of Zayn’s throat. It’s salty and bitter and Zayn does his best to swallow it down, to keep his mouth on Harry until he’s whining, tugging at Zayn’s hair.

“Come on,” Harry murmurs, pulling him up and reaching for the button on his jeans.

“You don’t have to,” Zayn says. His brain and his cock don’t agree with that statement, but it’s fine. Zayn can live. But Harry shakes his head, tugging Zayn’s jeans down until he can get his hands on his cock. He gasps at the feeling. He’s so sensitive, so hard that he’s not sure how long he’s going to last. Embarrassingly it won’t take long and he knows it, he can feel the tug in his gut as he pulls Harry in for a kiss.

And it is, embarrassingly quick how soon Zayn comes but he has nothing to blame it on besides sheer excitement. Excitement to have a hand other than his on his dick, to be having sex with Harry again, and—god, he’s got no other excuses. He doesn’t even have time to warn Harry before his hips are jerking, come spurting out of him, leaving him breathless.

“How was that?” Harry asks, fingers still on Zayn’s sensitive dick. “Good?”

“Yeah, that was good, Harry,” Zayn says, kissing the side of his neck.

Zayn finds some napkins in his glove compartment and gives them to Harry so he can clean himself off. They finish in time for the second movie, the two of them collapsed in the backseat as the movie plays through the speakers.

//\\\//\\\

Louis is giddy with excitement as he bounces around his car. Zayn can’t blame him, it’s finally ready to be driven, to be taken out of the shop and shown off to the world.

“While you have been busy with your boyfriend, Liam and I managed to get the new paint job on.”

“It looks good,” Zayn tells him, stroking the black paint on the car. He taps his knuckles against it, nodding. “Much better than the purple.”

“Anything was better than the purple,” Liam says. “It had little sparkles in it.”

“It was a shimmer and you could only see it when the light hit it the right way,” Louis defends. “But that’s gone now. We’ve still got some other stuff to do. I’m gonna have to save up to fix the interior.”

“These seats are chewed up too badly,” Zayn says.

“No, not as bad as they could be.”

“You could put the purple on the inside of the car,” Liam jokes, smiling when Louis glares at him. “And you know, the more I look at it, the less I like the black.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Zayn says, wanting in on the joke. “I think you should have gone with white.”

“White? No,” Louis mumbles, shaking his head. “It’s too clean. I like the black. It’ll look nice and sleek when I tint the windows and get some better tires on it.”

“White with silver lightning bolts.” Zayn bites back a smile when Louis turns to look at him, unimpressed. “It’d be unique.”

“No one else has lightning bolts on their car. You’d never lose it,” Liam reasons.

“Alright, that’s enough from both of you,” Louis says, waving his hands in an attempt to silence them. Liam and Zayn laugh harder, watching as Louis grumbles under his breath about how rude and ungrateful they are.

Zayn claps him on the back and turns to see a customer roll onto the lot. He waves to his friends, letting him know that he’ll take this one and waits for the car to stop. A woman steps out, blonde and pretty, blue eyes that shine from several feet away.

“Hello, how are you?” Zayn asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

She smiles at him, adjusting her purse on her arm. “Not so good, actually. My car has been making weird noises all morning. Is there any way that I can get it checked out?”

“Yeah, I can take a look at it,” Zayn tells her. He pops the hood and asks her what the noise sounded like, when it started, if the car has undergone any maintenance, and when was the last time she had it looked at. She answers and Zayn nods, because it’s not like any of her information is of use. She claims it’s a popping noise, that she can’t remember, that she doesn't think so, and that she can’t remember again.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, biting on her bottom lip apologetically.

“No, it’s alright. Um, we’re gonna have to roll it in and I’ll have Liam over there check it out. He’s the noise expert,” Zayn jokes, forcing a laugh out of the girl.

“So you think that he’ll be able to figure out today? Or should I call for a ride.”

“Well, why don’t we have him take a look and then I’ll let you know. It’s hard to say right now.”

She nods her head and adjusts the bag on her shoulder, watching Zayn as he motions Liam over. He explains to him what’s going on and then hands him the woman’s keys, allowing Liam the opportunity to drive the car into the garage.

“If you want to wait inside that’d be great,” he says, smiling at her.

“Yeah, okay,” she says. Her gaze lingers on him for a moment, tongue resting in the corner of her mouth. Zayn smiles at her and then turns to go, shaking his head as he moves to join his friends.

“I think someone has a crush on you, Zayn,” Louis says, popping open her hood.

“It’s her brakes,” Liam says. “She needs new brake pads. I’m not sure that’s all she needs, but the noise sounds like it’s coming from there.”

“How did you miss that?”

“I wasn’t paying attention when she pulled up and all I did was check under the hood. Mostly for show.”

“Isn’t it always for show?” Liam asks.

“Usually,” Zayn answers. It’s true. He can admit it. More often they not they take their time. It’s unfortunate for the customer but it gives them something to do.

“Looks like there’s more than one person on the lot with a crush on you, Zayn.”

“What are you talking about it?” Zayn frowns at Louis, noticing that he’s not looking at him but behind him. He turns and squints, a familiar figure in the distant, stepping on the lot uncertainly.

It’s Harry and he looks lost, hands in his pockets as he looks around at the random cars and car parts lying around.

“That or you’ve got a stalker,” Liam mutters. “Should we let the woman wait a bit longer for her diagnosis or?”

“Let her wait,” Louis mumbles. “Hello, Harry. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry says, smiling sheepishly. “Niall told me how great your car was coming along, so I thought I’d stop by and see for myself.”

“Well, Niall stopped by when we weren’t working,” Liam points out. “But yeah, totally. It’s actually that one right there, behind you.”

“Oh,” Harry mumbles, turning to look at the car. “Oh wow, it looks really great. You’ve all done that yourselves, right?”

“Zayn, have you told him anything about the process?” Louis asks, draping his arm over Zayn’s shoulders.

“Yeah, we talked about it,” he says, shaking out of Louis’ touch. He has a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach and he wishes that Harry weren’t here right now. He’d have been happy to show him all of this later, when it was just the two of them, when his friends aren’t around. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, with them, with himself, with Harry. It all just isn’t sitting right with him.

“He told me but I wasn’t sure if—I mean, that’s a big job to take on yourself. You guys should be proud of yourselves.”

“Well, we do work on cars for a living.” Zayn’s tone is sharper than he meant for it to be. His words condescending and it’s all accidental, but Harry looks like he’s been slapped. “It just makes it a bit easier, is all.”

“It gave us the right resources,” Liam adds. “We got most of this stuff at a discount. Perks of having people think you’re ordering them for the garage and not for personal use.”

“Is that legal?” Harry asks, finally turning away from Zayn.

“The boss gave the okay, so.” Louis shrugs, grabbing a wrench off the table. “But it could be. Not like anyone would know. I’m sure there are illegal happenings in retail. That’s where you work, right? Retail?”

“For now, yeah. Caroline just wanted to help me out until I can find something else.”

“Have you even been looking?” Zayn wants to kick himself in the mouth. The ugly feeling in his stomach is still there, but he realizes now that it’s not them; it’s him. He’s the one here to sabotage this and he can’t figure out why. He just knows that it feels like two different parts of his world are coming together and it makes him itch.

He itches and he can’t figure out why. He should want this. He should want for Harry, the boy he cares about so much, to be on good terms with his best friends, the two people that have been there for him through so much. And he does, god does he want it, but he doesn’t know he’s trying to fuck it up.

Maybe because if his friends get closer to Harry then he’ll have to come to terms with the fact that he acts different with both of them, and he doesn’t know how to bring those two parts of himself together.

“Not yet,” Harry tells him, eyebrow raised as he studies Zayn, like he knows what’s happening.

“You could always work here,” Liam says.

“Yeah, we could use a pretty thing like you behind the counter. People might break their cars on purpose for a chance to talk to you while we work on them,” Louis adds and Harry blushes, a smile on his face.

“That lady is watching us not work on her car.”

“Go tell her that we found the problem now,” Louis instructs and Liam nods, disappearing. “As for me, I’m going to go get the stuff we need.” He offers them a wave and then walks off. Zayn only breathes slightly.

“Is everything alright?” Harry asks, moving closer to Zayn. He touches his arm gently, concerned.

“What do you mean?”

“You just seem—I don’t know. Off? I guess.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think I’d know,” Zayn snaps and he blinks, breathing out slowly. That’s not what he--

“Don’t do that,” Harry mumbles, voice quiet and firm. “Don’t be—don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like what?” Zayn asks, even though he knows. He knows that he’s being an insufferable ass but he can’t figure out how to stop. It’s his brain and his mouth are no longer connected.

“You know what, Zayn. Come on.” Harry looks disappointed in him, like he can’t believe they’re back at square one and neither can Zayn. He doesn’t even know why he’s doing this. He’s just embarrassed, mostly at his friends for being complete idiots around Harry, at himself for not knowing how to tell them to fuck off, and now because he’s the asshole and not his friends. “Stop.”

“What are you even doing here, Harry? Did you come just to fight? Or what’s going on?”

“Are you being serious right now?”

Zayn shrugs.

“God, you know what. You’re an asshole.” Zayn knows that. He does. And he doesn’t blame Harry for saying it to him. “I don’t know what your problem is but you need to get over yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Zayn flinches as he says it because it’s such a lie.

“You know what—“ Harry pauses and shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “Never mind,” he mumbles. He looks at Zayn and it’s like a brick has dropped down on his chest. It’s the worst look that he’s ever given Zayn and Zayn hates that it’s there because of him, because he’s a coward, because he has a bullshit reputation to uphold, a reputation that he doesn’t even know what it consists of.

Zayn just—It’s all him. And maybe it’s better that Harry walks away from him like he is, maybe it’s better that he gives Zayn a cold look before he goes.

Or maybe it’s not. Yeah, it’s definitely not.

//\\\//\\\

It doesn’t take Zayn long to realize that he’s a dick that needs to apologize. Hell, he realized that as soon as he opened his mouth. But Harry doesn’t want to hear it. That or he just doesn’t care. Zayn wouldn’t blame him if that were the case. He was awful, so fucking awful to him that he wouldn’t blame Harry if he never spoke to him again.

That thought hurts. It makes his stomach clench and twist, his heart throbbing. It hurts worse than the pain in his ribs and lungs and thighs as he jogs along the lakefront.

It’s the same path that he took the first time, the one where he tripped and Harry gave him a second chance. Second chance, Zayn thinks, shaking his head. He’s a fucking joke. A nightmare. He doesn't deserve another chance.

He’d like one, though. He doesn’t know how to get one, though.

It’s a fucked up situation and Zayn knows there’s only one person to blame. Not his friends, not Harry, not random strangers that shout

‘on your left’ as they jog past him. It’s him. Zayn is to blame for everything that happened.

It’s pretty simple, really.

It comes to Zayn as he approaches the two mile mark, the solution to his problems. He started jogging – not today but the first time – because he wanted to show Harry that he could change, that he could be better, and that he wasn’t just some dick that didn’t know how to stand up to his friends. He’s forgotten that mission, forgotten that he wanted to do that for Harry. Wanted to be better.

But maybe he can do it now. Maybe he can slowly get his shit together so that he can be more. So that he can fix his mistakes.

One week of unanswered phone calls and texts and Zayn gets it. He knows what to do.

//\\\//\\\

Watching Louis cook takes Zayn mind off things. It’s chaotic and unorganized. He claims to not need help, so Zayn stays out of the way and watches, a smile on his face as Louis curses once again.

“Sure you don’t need any help?”

“If I needed it then I’d ask,” Louis mumbles, staring intently at the recipe book in front of him. He mutters something under his breath about not knowing where he can even find that. “We should have just ordered a pizza.”

“That was my idea,” Zayn says. And then adds, “more or less,” when he remembers that he his actual idea was grabbing gyros at the place a few blocks from Nick’s place before they head over there. But that’s close enough to pizza. It doesn’t involve a recipe book.

“Nick swore this was easy. He told me that I could have this finished in ten minutes.”

“It’s been thirty-five.”

“Right. Yes, thank you.” Louis turns towards him, grabbing some spices out of the cabinet to read the labels, looking for the one he needs. “Will you testify when we see him later that he’s a shitty person for lying to me about that?”

“I think you’ll be able to do that on your own,” Zayn says, taking his first step into the room from the doorway. He makes it to the recipe without Louis trying to stop him. “Um. You know that this is like, fairly easy, right?”

“You know, Zayn, if you’re going to be like this then you can leave,” Louis says, stepping around to tend to the food. It looks like he’s making chicken, which definitely doesn’t take ten minutes to cook, so Zayn’s not sure what Nick was telling him. Probably just trying to wind him up. “This is how I am. I’m a shitty cook and if you can’t accept that then go.”

“That’s who you are, huh.”

“Yeah. Louis Tomlinson: world’s shittiest chef.”

“Your chicken parm is pretty good.”

“That’s because I’ve made it so many times. Nothing works better for seduction than chicken parm.”

Zayn laughs, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, I guess so. But I embrace it,” Louis tells him, pointing a spoon in his direction. “I’m an idiot, shitty chef. That’s me. And I’m proud of it.” He nods his head for emphasis, turning back to the chicken. “This might be finished, actually.”

Zayn nods his head, silent as he mulls over Louis’ words. He can read a sign when it’s thrown in his face like that. He thinks about Louis’ words and the thoughts he had during his jog and he knows. He can feel what that this is the time to give Louis a little piece of himself that he’s been holding back on.

“You know that I like art?” Zayn says, swallowing thickly and tugging at his shirt nervously. The words felt alright coming out, but that doesn’t mean anything. At least not without Louis’ reaction.

“You like what?”

“Art. You know, like drawing and painting…and shit like that.”

“Okay,” Louis mumbles, looking at him in confusion. Zayn releases a shuddery breath, worried that he made a mistake. “You want me to take you to the Art Institute or something?”

And there it is, the feeling of relief that he was hoping for. It’s not much, not much of anything, but it feels like something to Zayn. Louis doesn’t care and Zayn’s never had anything to worry about. He really is an idiot. But he’ll save that for another day, save that confession for Harry.

“No, I’m not trying to get you to take me anywhere.”

“Are you sure? They’re open late on Thursdays, we could go after work, if you wanted.”

“No, that’s alright.”

“You sure? We can go there. Or to the other one. The one on Ontario,” Louis says. Then he shakes his head. “No, it’s on Chicago, right? We could go to that one.”

All Zayn does is smile, patting Louis on the back in gratitude. “It’s alright, man. Let’s worry about this chicken first, then we can talk about you taking me out on a date.”

“Right,” Louis says, patting his hands against his stomach. “Basically, I think it’s finished. But I forgot to make the glaze for it, so it’s just spiced up chicken. Spiced up chicken and nothing else.”

Zayn scratches his jaw, nodding thoughtfully. It doesn’t look bad, necessarily, but… Well, Zayn’s a good friend. He’ll eat it. It’s not a big deal. Spiced chicken before a party at Louis’ not-boyfriend’s place, that’s cool. And since Louis hadn’t mocked Zayn for his interest in art, he can tolerate a piece of dry chicken.

“You still want a gyro?” Louis asks.

“Oh thank god,” Zayn mutters. “Yeah, let’s go.”

//\\\//\\\

Zayn feels a bit like the third wheel at Nick’s place. Fifth wheel, if he includes Sophia and Liam. He probably shouldn’t, since they’re busy making eyes in the corner. Next to them – Sophia’s best friend, if he had to guess – has a look on her face, one that Zayn imagines is mirrored on his own.

His cup has been empty for far too long, he realizes, so he pats Louis on the knee to let him know he’s leaving and gets up to fix that problem. Louis doesn’t even blink, just continues yammering off to Nick about something. He’d tuned them out ages ago when they started talking about the last party they were all at together.

Zayn mostly tuned them out so he wouldn’t have to think about that night with Harry.

But of course Zayn’s not really good at getting his way, because Harry’s here, standing on the other side of the apartment with Caroline and Louise. Niall’s been bouncing back and forth between the two groups, trying to pretend like nothing’s going on, if Zayn had to guess.

“You look like you’re having a blast over there,” comes Niall’s voice in his ear.

“About as great of a time as you’re having running back and forth.” He turns to smile at Niall, bottle of label less alcohol in his hand. It smells strong and that’s what Zayn needs, something to loosen him up and shake off the unpleasant feeling in his veins.

Niall takes the bottle, nodding as he puts his lips to the rim, not concerned with a cup. Right. Zayn can get behind that.

“So, are Nick and Louis just that boring? Or are you a sad, lost puppy like your curly-haired counterpart over there?” Niall says, inclining his head in Harry’s direction as he passes Zayn back the bottle.”

“He talk to you?” Zayn asks, taking his own drink. It burns going down and Zayn winces, unable to hide how awful it tastes. But it settles deep in his stomach, settling and he can almost feel a knot loosen inside of him. Almost, but not enough, so he takes another drink.

Niall shakes his head, taking the bottle back from Zayn. “He didn’t mention anything, no. Just—You know, it’s kind of easy to figure out.”

“He’s kind of an open book, isn’t he?”

“That and he came home upset after going to visit you. It’s not that hard to put two and two together.

“Right,” Zayn mumbles. “But he didn’t tell you what happened?”

“Not really any of my business.”

“He said that?” Niall nods. “You know he’s not talking to me, right? Ignoring my calls and texts. I’d stop by the boutique if that wouldn’t get me a stalker charge.”

“And if you weren’t afraid of Caroline.”

“I didn’t say that,” Zayn says, snatching the bottle away from Niall. “You said that. I never said that.”

Niall laughs, shaking his head as Zayn takes his drink. “She’s harmless,” he says. “And she’s got a few drinks in her now. I doubt she’ll give you that hard of a time if you want to go over there and try to talk to him. It might be best to, you know, resolve this thing in person. There’s really only so much you can convey over the phone.”

“I’m not that good with talking in person,” Zayn admits. He looks away from Niall as he says it, his gaze flicking to Harry momentarily. He doesn’t look his happiest, but he definitely doesn’t look angry. He’s with that guy, the idiot jock that he was with last time Zayn pissed him off. Well… at least he as a pattern. “He’s with that dick face.”

“You remember Xander?”

“Unfortunately I do. Even more unfortunate Harry does.”

“Well, I guess you’ll have to go over there and get your man back, won’t you?” Niall says, taking one last drink from the bottle before he sets it down on the counter. He smiles at Zayn, clapping him on the shoulder before he flitters off towards Nick and Louis, ready for his next shift at friendship ping-pong.

It’s several minutes before Harry steps away from the group. He grabs empty beer bottles and glasses, holding them in his obnoxiously and wonderfully large hands, carrying them towards the kitchen. He doesn’t see Zayn, which is a good thing, Zayn guesses, because he’s actually in the same room as him.

Harry’s back is facing him as he pours drinks, checking bottles and looking for the right replacements. It’s now or never, Zayn thinks.

“Harry, can I talk to you for a minute. A second. Just a second,” Zayn corrects.

Harry seems to go rigid at the sound of his voice, his fingers curling tighter around a bottle. He doesn’t turn around, just stands there, staring down at the countertop.

“I just wanted to apologize to you. I know we’ve had this discussion before, but like, I’m not always an asshole. I’m not. You know that, or you did, before I fucked it up. And I know that I have, fucked it up. But it’s like, I get so nervous when you’re around my friends. Not because I don’t want you to meet them, I do. I’m just worried—scared about how these different worlds of mine can come together. But instead of trusting you and them, I’ve turned into some dickish monster that shuts out everyone, letting my friends treat you like shit, snapping at you because my insecurities are getting to me” Zayn says, shaking his head. It’s not as eloquent as he would have liked, but it’s something. He’s talking and that’s what counts. Maybe. It’s mostly word vomit, but hopefully something sticks.

“When I’m with you, I’m me. Well, I’m always me. It’s just hard to figure out how to throw all the pieces of me together. I’m not sure how be the way I am with you around Louis and Liam. Not like—Not like that,” Zayn quickly adds, holding his hand out even though Harry can’t see him. “It’s like, I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t even know what I’m saying. It’s not an excuse though, I shouldn’t—You deserve better. And I’m really sorry.”

Harry drops one of the bottles, the noise ricocheting off the walls and startling Zayn, forcing him to jump back.

The drinks are left on the counter, abandoned as Harry flees from the apartment. Zayn stares at the condensation on one of the bottles, watching as water droplet rolls down the side, pooling at the bottom of the glass on Nick’s countertops.

Harry must be angrier than he thought.

//\\\//\\\

It hurts. Everything hurts as Zayn wakes.

He opens his eyes slowly, wincing at the sun. He can’t tell if it’s morning or early afternoon. Not like he cares, he just wants it off. He wants the sun off. Night. That’s what that is, Zayn thinks, nodding to himself as he stands on unsteady legs.

He looks around; eyes squinted as he takes in his surroundings. He’s somewhere… Zayn doesn’t remember going home and he prays that he he didn’t go home with a stranger. That’s the last thing he needs, to have slept with someone else. Fuck.

Stumbling into the hallway he finds that he’s still at Nick’s. “Oh god,” Zayn mumbles, slouching against the wall. He’s so relieved. But confused. Why is he still at Nick’s?

“Well, don’t you look lovely this morning.”

Zayn squints, cupping his hands around his eyes as he looks at Louis. He’s standing behind the stove, spatula in hand, and it looks familiar. It reminds him of the night before, trying to cook chicken, failing, and then going to Nick’s. It makes him think of Harry, of how he ran off. And oh god, Zayn’s going to be sick.

When Zayn comes out of the bathroom Louis is laughing at him, hunched over and wheezing. Zayn’s not sure what’s so funny to him. He had been drinking too last night.

“How do you not feel dead?” Zayn asks, stepping around Louis for a glass of water.

“Do you want some eggs?” Louis asks instead of answering him. “I’ll make them anyway you want them.”

“You only know how to make scrambled.”

“Only asking to be polite,” Louis says, cracking open more eggs. “And to answer your question. You started getting sloppy, like. You were being horrible. So Nick and I dumped you in the spare bedroom and locked you in there like our child.”

“Thanks for that,” Zayn mutters. He doesn’t really remember it, but he think he might, now that Louis mentions it. There was alcohol, a lot of it. And there was dancing. Oh god there was dancing. He danced. And he shouted. Why did he shout? He can’t remember. But he danced. Oh no. Oh no. He might be sick again. “This is awful.”

Louis snorts. “Yeah, well. I’ve called off work. Managed to get you the day off as well when I told boss you’d be getting sick all morning.”

“Thanks for that.”

“Don’t thank me yet. That’s not all I did for you.”

“Do I even want to know?” Zayn asks, watching as Louis disappears down the hall for a moment, opening a closet door and grabbing something out of the inside. It’s a brown bag, like the ones you get when you’re buying produce at the supermarket, but Zayn knows it’s not fruit.

“I started thinking about stuff you’ve said before. Stuff you might not have realized you said, or things you might have hoped I’d forget, which I did, for the most part,” Louis explains, dropping the bag on the table. “And anyway, it was after your art love confession. I got to thinking. Going to the Art Institute sounds really fucking boring.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Thanks, man.”

“Shut up. I’m not trying to insult you,” Louis huffs. “I’m trying to find common ground here. So as I was saying, I remembered once that you mentioned reading comics when you were younger. But the way you talked about it—It was when we went to see Ironman. You talked about it and it didn’t sound like this was a new hobby. It sounded like… well, it sounded like you still do it.”

Zayn swallows and something about his appearance must give him away because Louis nods, reaching into the bag and pulling out a stack of comic books.

“I had Liam grab these. I said they were for me, in case you still want comics and art to be your dirty little secrets.”

“Oh my god,” Zayn mutters, grabbing them from Louis. He’s read a few of these, but most of them he hasn’t and it’s not like Louis would know either way, since Zayn’s never told him. “Louis. Some of these are like, really hard to get a hold of.”

“Yeah well, don’t pop a boner at the table or anything. It’s not a big deal,” Louis says, shrugging. “I just figured maybe now you can come out of your nerd closet and join the rest of is in realizing that comics are the only thing worth reading.”

“Wait.” Zayn stares at Louis, eyebrow cocked. He hadn’t—How did he not know that? “You like comic books?”

“And so does Liam.” Louis rolls his eyes and sighs, exasperated, like he can’t believe Zayn. But Zayn can’t believe them. He had no idea. He knew Liam loved Batman but he thought it was because of the movies, he didn’t think—He didn’t know.

It makes him laugh, a loud, belly laugh that shakes his entire body as it’s pulled out of him. All this time he was worried, scared about what his friends would think of him and yet, they’re the same as he is. Except they’re open about it. They’re not ashamed of who they are.

Zayn thinks of Harry and his anger towards him. He thinks of Harry and how he’s been working on being the person that Harry deserves. He can do that. He can be that person.

“I’m going to shower,” he says, because he knows what he needs to do. Or at least he thinks he does. “Leave my eggs on the table, I’ll get to them in a minute.”

//\\\//\\\

Zayn’s waiting on Liam’s doorstep when he gets home from work, still in his jumpsuit and covered in grease.

“Zayn, what are you doing here?”

“I need your help with something.”

“Anything, man. What’s up?” Liam asks, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s about Harry. I just—“ He sighs. He’s thought about this all day, here on Liam’s porch. He thought the old lady that lives across the street was going to call the cops on him earlier. So he’s thought about it all day, but he’s not sure. “I don’t even know what I’m doing, man.”

“Okay…”

“I just mean, it’s a crazy idea. Like, you’re going to think I’m losing it.”

Liam laughs, opening his door and motioning for Zayn to step inside. “Just start from the beginning.

Zayn nods and takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

//\\\//\\\

Zayn stares at himself in the mirror, more critical of his appearance than he’s ever been. It’s a soft change, very subtle. But he looks different, he thinks.

He looks at himself and nods, patting the sweater that he’s wearing with a nod. He can do this. Whatever this is.

Zayn sighs and rubs at his face, moving away from the mirror to grab his keys and his wallet. Liam took him home a couple hours ago, promising to be here with Louis. He’s already gotten a text to say they’re outside, waiting in the courtyard outside his apartment building.

Hours since his talk with Liam and he’s still not sure what he’s doing. But Liam seems to have understood him. They talked for nearly an hour, going over everything that has happened between Zayn and Harry since they met again at the bonfire. They talked about all of the things that Zayn’s been feeling and thinking. And maybe he’s not as good at hiding things as he thought he was, because Liam gave him a knowing smile as he told his story.

“What’s this?” Louis asks when he’s finally outside, looking Zayn up and down.

“You look nice,” Liam says, smiling encouragingly at him. “Really nice. He’ll like it.”

“Who will—Harry? Is this for Harry?” Zayn nods, rubbing his sweater nervously. “Did he ask you to change?”

“No, I just thought—I don’t know. Maybe he’ll like it.”

“But did he ask you to? Because he can go fuck himself if that’s what he wants from you,” Louis says, fierce and determined. There’s a fire in his eyes and Zayn laughs, shaking his head.

“No. I mean, I like this. I like dressing nice and looking nice.”

“You always look nice.”

“I’m just—Louis, I’m just trying to…be more.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I’m not saying there is,” Zayn laughs, grabbing Louis’ shoulder. “Just—let me try this, okay? The problem is that I’m not being myself. Or I am. Or—I don’t know. I just know I’m the problem and I’m trying to fix things. It’s worth a shot, right?”

Louis looks at him, eyes moving from Zayn’s, down his body and stopping at his feet. He looks back up slowly and sighs. “You really think a sweater is going to make your boyfriend not be angry with you? You realize that’s the dumbest thing anyone’s ever done?”

“Yeah, I know. Trust me, Lou. I know.”

“But it’s kind of romantic,” Liam says. Both Louis and Zayn turn to look at him. “Hey, I’m just trying to be supportive.”

There’s a revving engine behind them as they walk, laughing together at the absurdity of the situation. They’re going to Niall’s, where Niall has swore that the other boy will be, giving him and Zayn another chance to talk, this time without the aid of an unidentifiable alcoholic beverage.

The revving doesn’t stop and Zayn looks over his shoulder, watching as a motorcycle zips past them, taking a sharp turn and stopping at the bit of sidewalk in front of them, blocking their path. The rider is wearing tight jeans, so tight that his legs are probably suffocating. And his shirt is fitted, clinging to a torso that looks familiar. Everything looks familiar.

Under the helmet is an unmistakable head of curls.

“What’s going on?” Zayn mumbles, watching. He looks back and forth between Harry and his friends, whose mouths are open, no doubt wondering the same thing as Zayn.

“I think we’re going to go,” Liam says, grabbing Louis’ shirt. “Yeah. We’re going—Um, Zayn.”

“Yeah,” Zayn mumbles, waving them off. He’s unable to take his eyes off Harry. If he blinks, if he looks away for even a second, then this could all prove to be a dream or a figment of his imagination. Maybe he’s just imagining this, an overly detailed daydream or—a fantasy. Yeah. A fantasy. Harry in a tight shirt, even tighter jeans, and his hair a bit longer than before. Yeah, this is definitely a fantasy. Zayn pinches himself and it hurts, so his fantasy…is a reality? “Harry?”

“Hi,” Harry mumbles, hands pulled behind his back.

“What’s going on? What’s—You have a motorcycle.”

“Yeah, I bought it,” Harry says.

“You bought a motorcycle?”

“Yeah. Kind of. It’s on a payment plan, since I didn’t have the money for all of it, and like, I think the guy was scared to sell it to me so I can return it if I want to, but. I bought it.”

Zayn blinks, shaking his head. “Why? What do you need a motorcycle for? What are you even doing with that? Do you know how dangerous they are?”

“I thought you would like it,” Harry says. “I thought—you like stuff like this. I saw the pictures in your apartment, the magazine clippings. And I knew I couldn’t impress you with a car, since you have one and you see those every day, so Niall suggested a motorcycle.”

Niall. Niall Horan and his brilliant ideas, Zayn’s going to talk to him about this. “You’re trying to impress me?”

“Well, yeah,” Harry mumbles, cheeks blushing pink. And there he is, the boy Zayn fell for. He’s still there, under the extremely tight fitting clothing. Oh god, Zayn’s never going to get this image out of his head. He’s going to jerk off to the image of Harry’s ass in these jeans, he can feel it, if there’s anything he knows for sure anymore – and it’s not much, really – it’s that he’s going to jerk off to this.

“What are you wearing a sweater for?” Harry asks, pulling Zayn out of his head and back into reality. His fantasy reality.

“I wanted to look nice for you.”

“You trying to impress me?” Harry asks, biting back a smile.

“Yeah. I am. Thought you might like it if I—changed myself.”

Harry nods, still fighting off a smile. “Well, you’re not doing a very good job at it. Zayn frowns and stares down at his clothes. He looks great. He’d wear this to Thanksgiving. “I mean, your jeans are ripped up and you’re wearing combat boots. You’re still very you.”

Zayn looks down at himself, realizing that Harry’s right and he laughs. “I guess you’re better at it than I am, huh.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Do you um, do you wanna go inside?”

Harry looks at him and then turns to look at the motorcycle behind him. “Can you help me roll this into a real parking spot? I can’t just leave it there, it’s blocking the sidewalk.”

Zayn laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, Harry. I can do that.”

//\\\//\\\

Harry changes his shirt when he gets inside Zayn’s apartment, grabbing one of his black ones and pulling it on. It’s a little looser than the one he was wearing before, but only just so. He makes himself at home, taking off his boots and crawling onto Zayn’s bed, lying on his side and patting the space next to him for Zayn to join.

“Didn’t think you’d want to share a bed with me anymore,” Zayn says, sitting on the edge of the bed and unlacing his boots so he can get them off.

“You’d probably deserve that for being such an ass.”

Zayn nods, dropping his boot down and then lying next to Harry. He would deserve that, if Harry were the type of person to live so vindictively. But he’s not, so Zayn can thank his lucky stars for that.

“You know I’m sorry about that, right?”

“Yeah. I know.”

“That’s why I thought, you know, maybe if I changed myself a little, made myself better, then you’d be alright with me again.”

Harry rolls his eyes at that, back to looking annoyed and exasperated. “You realize that I was annoyed because you were being a dick, right? No one wanted you to change anything besides that. You can have your secrets. You can be scared or worried or whatever about your friends and me, but you don’t have to be such a dick.”

“Sorry, I freaked out,” Zayn says. “I felt like I was backed into a corner and yeah. No excuse, sorry. No excuses. And I won’t do it again, because you know, the silent treatment is really effective.”

Harry laughs, turning his face to the side to hide his smile in the pillow.

“But what I don’t understand is why you thought that you needed to change? Why did you buy a motorcycle?” Zayn asks, laughing at the absurdity of it. They’re both ridiculous, but at least they’re together in it.

“Well, imagine your boyfriend—” Zayn raises his eyebrows at that. “Yes, that’s what I’m calling you. Get over it.”

“Not arguing.”

“Good.” Harry nods. “Now, imagine that he turned dickish when his friends are around. You kind of, you know, start to imagine that you’re the problem. So I thought, well, if I could be a bad ass on a motorcycle then he’d have everything.”

“You really think I want some guy on a motorcycle?”

“I don’t know what you want.”

“I want you.” If Zayn wasn’t lying on his side then he’d shrug, instead he lifts one of his shoulders up and hopes it looks like a shrug instead of just an odd shrug of his body.

“You want me on the motorcycle or as I am?”

“As you are. Although the pants can stay. Those are—yeah. The jeans are nice.”

Harry laughs, reaching an arm out to rest on Zayn’s waist. “I figured you’d like them.”

“You have no idea how I feel about them,” Zayn says. He got a look at Harry’s ass on the walk up the stairs to his apartment and yeah. It’s everything he thought it would be. Perfect and wonderful and his favorite image in the world. “But I want _you_ in them. Not motorcycle guy.”

“I kind of like the motorcycle. It makes me look badass.”

“No,” Zayn mumbles, shaking his head. “It doesn’t. Not even a little bit.” 

“That’s rude.”

“Sorry, just trying to tell you the truth.”

“Well, I guess I could give that back and keep the jeans. It’d be a decent trade.”

Zayn nods, smiling as he brushes his fingers along Harry’s cheek. “What about you? Think you can handle someone like me?”

“Guess I could, if you can be less of a grumpy old man.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

“Not now,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. “But—“

“Yeah, yeah. I know what you mean.”

“Good,” Harry says, nodding. “Then can you kiss me? I’m getting a little tired of waiting.”

Harry’s cut off with an oomph as Zayn kisses him, sliding his hand down from Harry’s cheek to his ass, because that’s as much self control as he has right now. And everything’s okay again, so he pulls him closer until Harry’s half on top of him and he sighs, grateful that he hasn’t lost everything.

//\\\//\\\//\\\//\\\

“We were supposed to be there twenty minutes ago.”

“You said we had enough time.”

“Well, I didn’t know that you actually wanted to have sex. I thought you just wanted to suck me off.”

“I literally asked you if we had to go because there were other things I wanted to do, like have sex.”

“It’s hard to hear what you’re saying with my cock in your mouth.”

“You know, you’re really freaking out about nothing. It’s dinner. No one cares if you’re on time.”

“Our friends care,” Harry says, glaring at Zayn as they walk towards Frosty’s. “And you promised. And I want to show you off. How can I show everyone that my boyfriend is better than theirs when you refuse to leave the house?”

“Alright. Alright. We’re here, okay.”

“Late.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “We’re late.”

“We know.”

Zayn looks and sees his friends approaching them, Louis, Liam, Nick, Niall, Sophia, Caroline and Lou. Some of them are smiling at them, but others, like Louis and Niall, are glaring, looking less than thrilled.

“We’ve all been here since seven, like promised.”

“You got here ten minutes ago,” Caroline says. “Don’t act like you were on time.”

Zayn smirks at Louis before he pulls Caroline into a hug, kissing her cheek in greeting. She’s always been his favorite, aside from Harry that is.

“What took you two so long?” Niall asks, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Did you get lost or something?”

“Or something,” Zayn mutters, grinning as he ducks away, missing the hit that Niall aims for his shoulder. “We’re here now, though, so shut up before we leave again.”

“Oh no, you’re not taking this one anywhere,” Lou says, popping out of the back and wrapping her arms around Harry. “He promised to be here.”

“On time. I promised to be here on time.”

“Oh god,” Zayn groans, letting go of Harry’s hand and walking off. He can hear them laughing and footsteps behind him. He doesn’t have to turn around to know that it’s Liam and Louis, so he keeps walking, moving towards Frosty’s entrance.

“You know, soon we’re going to have go out the three of us. Leave the wives at home.”

“Sophia would give you a lecture if she heard you say that,” Liam says.

“So would Harry.”

“So would Nick,” Louis says, shrugging. “And I’d probably only listen to Sophia.”

“Listen to me about what?” Sophia asks, appearing out of nowhere behind them.

“Ask you how you put up with a guy like that,” Louis says, putting his arm around her shoulder. “He’s a nightmare.”

“Ha ha, how funny,” Liam mutters, stopping at a table in the back. He pulls out a chair for Sophia, who smiles, stepping out of Louis’ hold and taking her seat.

“Sophia, if you ever get tired of him then just give me a call.”

“You know I will,” Sophia jokes, biting back a smile.

“You know that I’m right here.” It’s Nick, who rolls his eyes at Louis as he takes his own seat.

“Yes, and I don’t care.”

“I care,” Harry says.

“And you should care, since you’ve already asked to sleep at my place tonight,” Nick says, flipping the menu up casually as Louis glares at him. “If you didn’t want me to announce it to everyone then you should learn to be nicer.”

“Whose place am I sleeping at?” Niall asks, looking around. Everyone keeps their mouths shut and Niall frowns. “Fine then, ya no good shits. I don’t need any of ya, I’ll sleep at Vi’s house.”

“You’re too young for me honey,” Vi says as she walks by, patting Niall on the back.

“Great so no one wants me.”

“I’ll take you in,” Caroline says, wrapping her arms around Niall and pulling him into a side hug. His head is resting on her shoulder, grinning wickedly.

“Since everyone’s finding places to sleep tonight does that mean I get to stay at yours?” Harry asks, resting his head in his hand, smiling at Zayn.

“Where else would you stay?”

“Well, I do have a place. You might have forgotten about it.”

Zayn shakes his head, pretending to think it over. “No, I don’t remember. Guess you’ll have to stay at mine again.”

“For the third night in a row.”

“You could just move in.”

“It’s not big enough for two people. We’d have to find a brand new place.”

Moving doesn’t sound like something he wants, at least not right now. But he’d have Harry, have him everyday so maybe he could do that. Maybe he’ll want it – the moving part – more when his lease is up. “I’ve got five more months on my lease.”

“So that settles it then. I’ll spend the night at your place in five months,” Harry says, opening his menu. Zayn nods and then stops because what?

“Wait. Five months? Are you joking?”

Harry hides his smile behind the menu, lifting it up so that Zayn can’t see his face anymore. So he’s joking, of course he is. He’s been staying at Zayn’s place more often than not.

“You wouldn’t be able to last five months,” Zayn says, lifting up his own menu. He doesn’t even know who brought them to the table; they’re pointless. He knows what he’s getting.

“Is that a dare?” Harry asks.

“Of course it’s a dare,” Louis shouts.

“You don’t even know what they’re talking about,” Niall says.

“Stop instigating,” Nick says.

“Are you telling me what to do?”

“Oh god. No, I wasn’t. But now I’d like for you to close your mouth.”

“I love when they fight.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, tuning out everyone around him to turn and focus on Harry, the boy that he met in an unknown place that has become so engraved in his life that he couldn’t imagine it without him.

He looks at him, and watches as Harry watches what’s going on around them. His eyes are shining, sparkling as he takes it all in. If he’d get the chance to look at himself, he thinks that his eyes would look the same way.

“What are you looking at?” Harry asks, smile still etched on his face as he looks at Zayn.

“Just admiring the view,” Zayn says, reaching out to pull Harry into a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it <3 Comments / kudos would be lovely.


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